Consequences
by Spense
Summary: As usual for the Tracy family, nothing is easy, and the events immediately following the defeat of the Hood prove that once again. MOVIEVERSE
1. Chapter 1

**CONSEQUENCES**

**By Spense**

**Description**: In the immediate aftermath of the eventful spring break, Alan finds that things are not going as he expected, and in consequence, his world begins to slowly unravel. **Movie-verse.**

**Disclaimer: **The usual - I don't own, I'm making no money, I'm writing for the enjoyment, and please don't sue me!

**Author's Note: **I'm not big on author's notes, but this one does require a couple of comments. First off, this has been sitting in my computer for well over a year. And if I don't do anything soon, it will probably here forever because there is still a chunk out of the middle (about one chapter) that isn't completed. This is very unusual to my manner of posting - I usually don't post until a story is completed. However, the remainder IS finished. Hopefully, just posting will spur me to get the 'nuts-and-bolts' connecting chapter finished. It isn't an exciting chapter - just moving characters from one place to another and I just have to do it.

Secondly, I am on the road a lot for work (and have been for the last couple of years) leaving little time for writing for pleasure. Also, I only have access to my computer (and time) for pleasure writing on the weekends, among the other things that I do. Therefore, posting wouldn't be nearly as often as I usually choose. So expect a chapter once a week. I seriously doubt it will be more than that.

Third, this is un-betaed. So all mistakes, shortcomings, and plot issues are mine alone. Don't blame anybody else!!!

**_PROLOGUE_**

(Note: These events occur within days of International Rescue's defeat of the Hood.)

The letters felt hot in Alan's hand. A part of him not stunned senseless thought how ironic it was that he should find them now. Now that things were finally going right in his life. Now that he felt accepted. Now that he was finally part of International Rescue, and not just an inconvenient add-on to the great Tracy family.

The shock was tremendous, and he was having a hard time grasping it. This week had been one big shock, really. It had begun with the Hood taking over the island. Alan had gotten a whole new view of his father by way of the villain's comments. Always the hero in Alan's eyes, he'd seen the bitterness of one man who'd been left behind. And Jeff telling him that 'you can't save everybody'.

Alan had thought a lot about that this past week. His father had always been perfect in Alan's eyes. But what the Hood had told him, and what his father had said himself bothered Alan. He'd talked to Scott about it once everything had calmed down and life was returning back to normal. Scott had treated him and his inquiries about it as he would treat an equal. Alan had liked that. Alan had a new view of what they did. It wasn't all just heroics. Rather, it was more about balance. Saving and giving a chance to those who could be saved. Making the hard decisions about who would be saved. Those best equipped.

He had thought that he was coming to terms with that idea. And now this. The world was shifting once again, and Alan didn't like it one bit. Sitting in the cool, dim basement of the Tracy villa, behind boxes of old business records and family furniture from the old Kansas farm, Alan had found the letters.

He'd come in search of his mother. Scott had told him more about her when they'd talked. Alan could barely remember her. The avalanche that had killed her had happened when he was just three. He had vague memories, more a sense of a loving presence that actual specifics. Jeff had said he was like her. But Alan wanted to know more.

And he had found it. A week after the Hood's invasions of their idyllic life, Alan's world was shattered even more successfully than that villain had managed.

' . . . You know this isn't a good idea. The doctor said that after Gordon, any more children would be dangerous to your health . . .' Alan read the words written by his father once again. Jeff had been in Europe on business, and had written to his wife via email. The dates and addresses were clear on the printout.

'I'm sorry we fought before I left, but you know my views on this. Four children were all we planned, and you know how difficult Gordon's birth was on you. I came so close to losing you then, and the other time as well, and I won't risk that again. Dr. Ellerson made it clear how much of a risk any additional pregnancies would be to you, and I can't chance that. I can't imagine living life without you. I think his recommendation of terminating the pregnancy needs to be undertaken as soon as possible.'

Alan gazed at the much folded piece of paper. It was soft, and the creases where the folds were had become so thin to be almost transparent. The date on the e-mail was seven months before his birth. Five years after Gordon's birth.

He'd always wondered why the large gap. Gordon was nineteen to his fourteen. Five years. There were two to three years age difference between each of the others, beginning with Scott currently at twenty seven, John at twenty four, Virgil at twenty two, then Gordon. He'd asked his father once, and Jeff had just laughed and said children came when they wanted to, not when it was convenient. That had been enough to reassure Alan. Now he was seeing a whole different light on things.

'I know how you feel, but so much of it is hormones, my love. You are biologically made to protect the new life inside of you. But I'm not the one carrying the child. I can think more logically about it. We'll talk more when I get back. Please, please consider me and our sons. The loss would be far too great. I'll be home soon. Love always, Jeff.'

Alan had found the letter in a small book of poetry tucked into the bottom of a trunk with his mother's wedding dress. The book was clearly a favorite of hers judging from the wear and tear. Her name was written inside - her maiden name - and all kinds of small mementos were tucked into the pages. A pressed flower, small locks of hair in blond, chestnut, red, and deep brunette. A scrap of fabric and lace. A ticket stub from what looked to be a concert. Alan couldn't make out the name of the group, but the date corresponded to when his mother and father began dating. A few love letters from Jeff. And the printout of the e-mail, much worn, that he held in his hand. The printout had been read many, many times and looked to have stains from drops of water. Tears? Alan knew he was holding something that he was never meant to see.

His father had wanted the pregnancy terminated. His own father had wanted him aborted. Given a choice between himself and his mother, Jeff had irrevocably chosen his mother. But, it seemed, his mother had chosen him.

Almost in spite of himself, Alan set the paper down and thumbed through the book again. He found another much folded piece of paper. This time it was in pen and ink, on a lined sheet of notepaper, the words written with a hard slashing motion in a familiar hand. With a fatalistic feeling, and shaking hands, he opened it as well, swallowed hard, and began to read. There was no opening. The words began, stark and clear.

'I am forever astounded at your damn stubbornness. How you can be so selfish is beyond me. Isn't the reaction of the boys last night enough? Just our yelling was upsetting to them. I finally found Virgil in the attic, hiding, after you locked yourself in our room. He'd been frightened by the violence. Gordon didn't go to sleep until two in the morning, and I seriously doubt Scotty or Johnny slept at all. That you would so bull-headedly protect the life you are carrying despite knowing that it will, in all probability, kill you is unfathomable to me. I had a taste of trying to care for four boys by myself last night, and I know I can't do it. If you leave me, I won't be able to go on without you. My life won't be worth living, especially knowing it was my seed that did this too you. I'll see you tonight, and try, once again to talk some sense into you. Please, please, see reason, Lucy!'

Behind the note Alan found was a newspaper clipping. It was a short note about 'astronaut Jefferson Tracy's wife hospitalized'. While carrying him, Alan's mother had collapsed while out shopping, and had been hospitalized. This had occurred during the fourth month. She'd remained hospitalized until his birth.

The only other thing Alan found was a card.

'My darling wife, I love you beyond all measure. Please understand that. Please forgive me for my anger yesterday. I was so frightened for you, and I still am. Daily I wait for a call from the hospital telling me that something has happened. It frightens me past all rational thought. I'm so sorry I upset you, pushing you to end the pregnancy. We are both such stubborn people. Please forgive me. Love Jeff.'

Alan slowly thumbed the pages once again. But nothing more was there. He leaned back against the concrete foundation of the villa, staring unseeingly into the dim, murky basement. The picture painted by these few, brief pieces of correspondence was so clear. Devastatingly clear.

Sitting with the debris of Jeff and Lucille Tracy's early married life all around him, Alan Tracy, their youngest son, understood for the first time the circumstances of his birth. That he'd been born amidst conflict, heartache and fear. A clash between two people, one who would chose the life growing by mistake inside of her, and the other trying to end that life in order to save the carrier. How unbelievably ironic that after the apparently miraculous outcome of both living through the birth, that Lucy Tracy would be taken by an avalanche only four short years later, leaving her husband who hadn't wanted to cope without her, with five children now, instead of four.

'You can't save them all', his father had told him. And his father had clearly chosen his mother over him when he had had the choice. Alan himself was the one chosen not to be saved.


	2. Chapter 2

**CONSEQUENCES**

By Spense 

CHAPTER ONE

Dropping his bags inside his dorm room, Alan Tracy stomped back out immediately. Fermat, his friend and roommate, looked after him worriedly, but didn't say anything. He knew better than to get in the middle of this one; Alan was going to take a really, really long time to cool down.

Fermat moved slowly to the door to shut it, when Scott Tracy hurried back through it.

"Alan! You forgot . . ." He stopped abruptly, looking around, then looked inquiringly at Fermat.

The boy sighed. "Alan's gone already."

Scott shook his head in annoyance. "Well, that didn't take long, did it? First he sulked all the way here, and now he's off to pout some more," he comment, his patience with his little brother about used up.

Fermat knew the wisest course when dealing with the Tracy brothers was to say nothing. You were generally safer.

"What was it this time? Is he mad because Dad didn't bring him, or because he has to come back at all? Or is it something else altogether?" Scott finished up tiredly.

"Don't know," Fermat mumbled.

Scott grinned suddenly. "Or won't tell me? Sorry Fermat. It isn't your fault my little brother's being an ass. Didn't mean to take it out on you. Give him this, will you?" Scott handed off the chemistry book Alan had managed to leave behind in the car.

"O-okay, Scott."

"See you later," and with a wave, Scott was off.

Fermat stared after him for a moment, but turning with resignation and dropping the book on Alan's desk. Why was it with a family that smart, they could be so stupid when it came to each other sometimes?

TB TB TB TB TB

Alan slammed his gym locker shut after changing into running clothes and headed out to burn off steam. He headed out through the historic buildings of the Wharton Academy grounds, ignoring the returning students and their parents.

What really groused him was that they looked so happy. Not like they were just getting dumped off, out of the way. Out of sight, out of mind was the credo his family lived by when it came to him. At least he finally understood why. His father hadn't wanted him in the first place, and now was stuck with him.

Alan had really thought that it would all be different now. After the events of the last week, when he, Fermat, and TinTin had formed together to save his family – the anonymous group that formed International Rescue. His father had basically confirmed that when he given them their Thunderbird pins, stating that there had been no shortcuts. He was sure that now he would be accepted into the 'family business', and be a true part of the family – not somebody who was just tolerated.

The remainder of Spring Break had seemed to confirm that. It had been fun. He and Fermat and TinTin had ridden along on the two other rescues that had occurred, and had gotten to observe and begin training. Then, one right after another, the blows had fallen. Right in succession, Alan had found the letters, Spring Break ended, and Jeff had sent Alan back to school.

Going back to school in itself had been a blow alone, and an unpleasant surprise. He had just assumed that he would get to be home-schooled now. He had never thought that his father would send him away again. He supposed he should have, once he'd seen the letters. But everything had happened so fast. He found the letters late Saturday afternoon, then when he was coming up from the basement, still digesting the disturbing information and the shifting of his world, his father had called him into his office to tell him he'd be taking him back to school in the afternoon the next day and to work out a timetable.

The subsequent blow-up was as big as anything that had happened before, but the worst was the words his father had said to him before sending him to his room like a little kid.

"I thought you'd matured Alan, I guess I was wrong."

That had been a blow in the gut, and it had hurt. Alan had been struck speechless at that comment, right when he'd been opening his mouth to throw the letters in his father's face. But actually, he knew he'd matured more than his father believed when he bit his tongue and kept silent. Alan finally understood now why he was always sent away.

Alan had half expected his father to request the pin back, but he hadn't done that. He'd told Alan to go to his room and calm down before Alan could respond. But before anything further could be done, the klaxon went off, and Alan was back where he started, watching the Thunderbirds take off, and his family leaving him behind once again. Only, this time, with his father's words, both spoken and written, burning in his mind, he knew why.

The rescue had been a long one, overnight and into the next day. Only Scott had arrived back in the quicker Thunderbird One in time to transfer to the Tracy jet and provide the chauffer service for Fermat and Alan.

Alan had had a chance to really think things through, and was thoroughly disillusioned. His brothers had never said anything about the upheaval while his mother had been pregnant with him. And Scott would have been 12, and John 9, so they certainly would have know something was going on. From the sounds of it, it would have been hard to have missed. How had his father reacted when he was born? Did he even care? Or did he resent the child he'd wanted terminated?

His trust level in his older brothers eroded as Alan realized the secrets that they clearly held close. Therefore, Alan hadn't made any attempt to speak to Scott on the ride down, and Scott was in no better mood than Alan. He was tired, and he was just under the wire for safety in flying, so he was in a hurry to get home before he got grounded in New York. It was not a pleasant trip.

Now, here he was, once again, dumped off out of the way, therefore allowing his father and brothers to do what they did best. Alan didn't have to guess which was more important to his family – Alan or International Rescue – it was pretty clear. And he had his father's own words, written indelibly in ink, to prove it.

Alan took his time with his run. Skipping dinner, he added a few extra miles, enjoying the sensation of burning off the rage. He ran until he was absolutely exhausted. At least maybe he'd be able to sleep.

By the time he pushed open his door, Fermat looked up in stark relief. Alan noted his friend's expression with a sardonic thought. Well, at least somebody cared.

"G-geez, Alan, I t-thought you'd gotten lost. Are y-you okay?"

"Fine," Alan said shortly, digging into his stash of granola bars that he brought with him Ohana made them from scratch at the island, and Alan was addicted to them. Since she was always on him to eat more, she made sure he always had some on hand. Grabbing two, he headed for the shower.

"U-uh Alan, you're Dad called. He w-wants you to call him back," Fermat said carefully. Sometimes he just hated being the messenger.

"Whatever," Alan said shortly, and disappeared into the bathroom, obviously having no intention of returning the call.

Fermat gazed at the closed door for a moment before turning his attention back to his book. It was going to be a long quarter.

TB TB TB TB TB

Jefferson Tracy clicked off the vid-phone thoughtfully. Fermat had said Alan had gone out for a run right after arriving and still wasn't back. That was not a good sign.

John Tracy wandered into his father's office. "What's the matter?" he asked, seeing the pensive look on his father's face.

"Alan," he answered, turning to his second eldest with a wry smile.

"Who else?" John laughed. He then turned serious. "Scott said he sulked all the way to school."

"Well, that could also just have easily have been the fault of the pilot. Scott was not in a good mood when he learned he had to provide chauffer service," Jeff said lightly.

"No," John conceded. "He wasn't, was he."

"Scott and Alan are just too much alike sometimes. Pity neither of them realize it," Jeff commented.

John just gave an amused snort of agreement.

"No," Jeff continued, "I just wish I could have talked to Alan before he left. We really didn't leave things on a very good note last night."

"Story of Alan's life. Sometimes I think that kid just exists to make waves." John agreed.

Jeff smiled wryly in agreement.

"Why don't you call him?" John finally suggested. He could tell that this was really eating at his father.

"Already tried. He's out. Fermat didn't know where, or when he'd be back. He skipped dinner."

John, always sensitive to his father's moods, picked up on the worry. "He'll be okay Dad. He's a teenager. He's supposed to have mood swings," he finished grinning. "He'll get over it as fast as he got angry."

"I hope so," Jeff said, concern still evident. Somehow, he had the feeling that it might not be that easy. "But Alan just has a way of having to do things the hard way."

John couldn't help but agree.

TB TB TB TB TB

Alan managed to avoid his father, much to Jeff's chagrin. Jeff alternated between being irritated and concerned. He knew Alan could be hot-headed, but for the most part he has as much common-sense as his other sons. He was just younger and had less experience.

Jeff knew that Alan was going to make a terrific team member for IR. But he desperately wanted Alan to have a true childhood, and a life outside of IR. At his age, he needed to experience life, not just jump feet first into the only thing he knew.

Sometimes Jeff really regretted the necessity of living in such a remote place. For Scott and John, who had already lived on their own outside the family, it was fine.

Virgil as well. As an artist, he was used to looking beyond physical barriers and leading with his mind.

Gordon, with his phenomenal swimming ability and his time in WASP had also looked beyond the 'family business'.

But Alan never had had the chance. At it really didn't help that there was such a gap in age between Gordon, his second youngest son, and Alan. Gordon and Alan were very close, amazingly so when you considered the age difference, but there was still the fact that Gordon was over 18, and Alan had a long way to go.

So, realistically, the island and IR was all Alan knew, and that worried Jeff. That was a major reason for sending him to Wharton Academy in the first place, and having him continue there until he graduated.

The experiences and the diversity of the student body ensured a mind-broadening experience, yet the security assured Jeff of his son's safety.

Jeff sighed again as he wrestled with the dilemma. It was for the best, he thought again, staring out at the turquoise ocean through the huge windows in his office. Too bad Alan didn't see it that way.

He really wished he knew how to impart his thoughts to his son, but Alan would have none of it. Especially after his first taste of working a rescue. At fourteen, life was all excitement and you were going to live forever.

It didn't help that things were so busy now. Time was just slipping by him. Rescues seemed to be up, and Tracy Enterprises was absorbing a great deal of his time right now. Unfortunately, Alan seemed to be losing in the time department, and that wasn't right.

Jeff determined to try again to reach his son, and get him to talk to him. He had to go to New York next week. Maybe he'd go a day early and take Alan with him.

Jeff was mulling over the idea when the klaxon went off. Another day, another rescue, he thought as he went into action.


	3. Chapter 3

**CONSEQUENCES**

**by Spense**

(Please Note: The prank described in the following chapter is courtesy of Boomercat. I needed something typical of a teenager, yet sophisticated enough to be done by a Tracy, and as always, she provided the perfect thing.)

**Chapter Two**

A few weeks following the beginning of Alan's school term, Virgil was manning the Command and Control Center. He'd managed to turn his ankle pretty good on the last rescue they'd been on, and Brains had recommended that he stay off of it for a few days. Therefore, Brains was riding in Thunderbird Two, and Virgil was stuck here, riding the desk. Boring.

The rescue was well underway, and well handled. There wasn't much to do at this point except keep an eye on things. The beep of the vid-phone was a welcome diversion.

Ah, Virgil," the man said, recognizing him, "this is Headmaster Simmons from Wharton Academy . . ." As the man rambled on, Virgil's attention was sharpening. A call from the Headmaster could mean anything, but this was Alan they were talking about.

It could be as innocuous as Alan coming down with a case of the flu, or as major as blowing up the Chemistry lab. Again.

Virgil informed him that Jeff was away at the moment, but he was authorized to deal with anything that came up. The Headmaster allowed that he was aware of that, and proceeded to fill Virgil in.

Virgil felt his mouth tighten at the news. There had been an 'incident' as the Headmaster put it. A cherry bomb had been dropped into the toilet on the third floor and flushed. Unfortunately for the Wharton Academy Academic Building, it had been equipped with a magnesium fuse and a special compound that allowed it to burn under water. It had detonated between the second and third floor, blowing out the plumbing and severely damaging the interior walls.

There had been half a dozen young men in the vicinity at the time, and any one of them could have done it. The staff at Wharton's was currently looking into the matter, the boy who did it would be expelled. The Headmaster was just letting all the parents of the children involved know what was happening. They had fingerprints, and other evidence, and would know the culprit shortly. This was just a courtesy call.

Virgil asked immediately to speak with Alan privately. The Headmaster agreed. He didn't even seem surprised.

When Alan was on the phone, Virgil didn't even let him speak, he was so incredibly furious.

"What on earth possessed you, Alan? Did you think none of us would recognize that little prank as something Gordon did when he was your age? And Scott did before him? Geez, Dad was furious then, and you can bet he'll be doubly so now. Especially with you acting so childish lately!"

Alan's mouth opened to speak, but Virgil overrode him.

"Now, you listen to me, and listen good. I suggest you think long and hard about what you're doing and how you'll handle the consequences. Lying is not going to help you one bit. They have fingerprints and other evidence. You'll buy a lot more credence with Dad and the school if you come clean and tell the truth. You know they'll expel you over this, and trust me, it's going to be bad enough when Dad comes to get you, but if you try to lie your way out of it, it's going to be ten times worse."

Alan's mouth had tightened and he looked as furious as Virgil felt. Virgil felt like throttling him. Geez, what had the brat been THINKING! "Don't say anything. You've already done enough. Well?"

Alan nodded rigidly, his eyes blazing with anger.

"Good. I'll break it to Dad. Why I'm doing that, I don't know - he's going to be absolutely furious. But you'd better be on your best behavior when you talk to him, or you aren't going to like the consequences. Understand? The only thing you can do now is try to make the best of it now. Got it? And don't say anything besides 'yes' or 'no' to me right now, if you know what's good for you," Virgil threatened angrily.

"Yes Sir," Alan said pointedly again, clearly unrepentant

Virgil's eyes narrowed at the attitude showing in that expression. "Watch it Alan," he snapped sharply.

Alan's mouth tightened again. "I'd better go," he said shortly, then signed off.

Virgil sighed, then steeling himself, called his father, who was on his way back in TB2. As expected, Jeff was not happy.

Jeff marched into his office as soon as TB2 had landed. He'd pushed the big machine as fast as he dared in order to be back before the Headmaster of Wharton Academy called. He just couldn't believe it. Only Alan had the ability to aggravate him this much.

Alan could only have found out about that particular prank from Gordon. What he wouldn't have known until Virgil told him was that Scott had nearly gotten expelled for that same thing as well. Jeff had managed to talk the schools into keeping his sons, but apparently word got around, and he doubted he could keep Wharton from expelling Alan over this. He'd basically said so to Alan on the terse message he had left on his son's phone since he couldn't get hold of said child himself.

Jeff tried to turn off his thoughts by going back to work while he waited, but it wasn't helping. He was almost grateful when the vidphone beeped again a few hours later. As expected, it was the Headmaster. Jeff steeled himself for the news.

It took him a moment to realize what the man was saying. The culprit wasn't Alan. They'd traced the fingerprints to a senior who was a known trouble maker. Alan had been very cooperative, and the Headmaster went on and on about how mature he'd become. Jeff's heart sank as he thought of his reaction.

Jeff thanked him automatically, and met the eyes of his horrified middle son who had made sure he was present when the call from Wharton came in. The other Tracy siblings, in their infinite wisdom, had made themselves scarce, as had the rest of the island's inhabitants.

Sighing heavily, he consoled Virgil. "Never mind, I jumped to the same conclusion you did, son."

"But you didn't just jump down his throat and not give him any chance to defend himself!" Virgil whispered in horror.

"No, but I left a message insinuating that I believed he'd done it. We'll fix it," he reassured his son, hoping against hope he was right.

TB TB TB TB TB

Alan slammed his books down on his desk and disappeared back out the door of the dorm room without a word to his roommate. Fermat just watched, his eyes huge as Alan stormed out. Somehow, that just made Alan more angry.

'Now you know where you stand' his thoughts whispered to him as he headed away from the building in the light spring air. Everything else looked so happy, but here he was, angry again. The cause? As usual, his family.

Both Virgil and his father had really believed he'd done it. They really had believed that he could be that totally stupid. Now he had conformation of what he'd always wondered. What the rest of his family really thought about him. His father's letters had been damning enough, but this!

All the 'you can talk to me Alan', 'there isn't anything we can't talk about' type speeches. Well, Alan had just found out how wrong they were. This was it. He knew where he stood with his family now, and he wasn't going to give them another hold over him ever again.

He wasn't wanted in the first place, from the very day of his conception, so they sent him away, always believed the worst, and generally quite clearly felt he was a waste of time and space. Well, if that's what they thought, so be it. He was finished trying to prove anything to anybody anymore. From now on, he wasn't going to share anything with anybody. It was safer that way. You didn't get hurt.

TB TB TB TB TB

Jeff hung up the phone slowly after talking with Alan. He'd had an impossible time trying to get hold of his son. It was clear that Alan was dodging his calls, and not returning the numerous messages he'd left. Jeff was once again both angered and frustrated by Alan's actions. He was tempted just to go get Alan and bring him home and sort this out, yet that was not the way.

He'd had such a hard time getting hold of him, that he'd finally had the Headmaster interrupt him in class and bring him to the office so he could take the call. He'd made sure he was calm, and in control of himself before he talked to his volatile son.

Surprisingly Alan didn't argue, or defend himself, or blow up in the righteous indignation that he had every right too. At first Jeff was relieved, but then he became concerned. Alan was cool, calm, and very sparse with words. For the first time ever, Jeff had a hard time communicating with Alan.

After he'd apologized, and told him to expect an apology from Virgil as well, the normal process would be for Alan to blow off steam, and vent his anger. Which was why Jeff had called first. He could then referee Virgil's apology. Then all would be done, and Jeff would be able to start a dialogue and sort things out. But Alan didn't even seem angry. He seemed – well, distant, was probably the best term.

He just nodded, accepted his father's words without any emotion showing at all. Finally, he excused himself to get back to class, leaving his father staring at the vidphone in disbelief. Somehow, Jeff felt, they'd reached a new place, and it was not a positive one.


	4. Chapter 4

**Consequences**

Chapter Three 

**By Spense**

Alan had an unfortunate habit of always managing to be in the worst place at the worst time. He knew it, and worst of all, his family knew it. One more way to always screw up, as Alan mentally put it.

So it was no surprise to Alan to find himself in a car, riding with the assistant PE coach to the hospital after he was piled into one afternoon during a soccer game. The pile up managed to send him head first into the goal post, ringing his bell pretty hard. The coach had decided he needed to be checked out, hence the trip.

The kids placed at Wharton Academy were there via the exorbitant fees paid by their parents, and thus, the best care and security was given to all. After all, who wanted to hurt the cash cow?

It wasn't long before Alan found himself in bed for a night of observation, after being diagnosed with a mild concussion.

"Try to get some sleep, Alan," the nurse said cheerfully. "We'll have to wake you up occasionally, I'm afraid, but I'd still like you to get some sleep."

"Okay," Alan replied. Frankly sleep sounded good. His head was pounding.

"We've called your dad. He should be along in a few hours."

"Dad's coming?" Alan said, surprised.

"Certainly," the nurse smiled. "Did you think he wouldn't?"

Well in a normal world, a parent would certainly come. But this was his family, and International Rescue always came first. Heaven forbid that the island was left without it's commander. But that wasn't something he felt like going into with a stranger, so he just shrugged non-committaly.

She grinned back, amused, and told him again to go to sleep, then left the room.

Left in the quiet, with the muffled sounds of the hospital coming from the closed door of his private room, Alan reflected again on her comment. A normal world, with normal parents. Not his world.

Most parents didn't shovel their kids off to a boarding school to get them out of the way to peruse their dream. Most kids didn't cause a huge fight between their parents just for being on the way. And it didn't help that there was five years between himself and Gordon. That made Alan a liability. Gordon was at least of an age that could allow him to work in IR. Not so Alan. He had at least another four years before he was useful and not a waste of time.

Alan's lips tightened as he gazed out the window. No use. That was the story of his life. Just when he thought things had gotten better, he was put right back in his place.

'Ignore them. You're better off on your own,' his mind whispered to him. There was some truth in that.

Alan didn't realize that he'd fallen to sleep until he woke to a mild, quiet commotion in his room. Opening his eyes, he saw Lady Penelope Creighton-Ward standing at the window talking to the nurse.

"No, no, Jeff couldn't get away. Business you know. So he asked me to come," she was saying.

As Alan was registering her comments, she turned and saw he was awake.

"Alan! How are you feeling?" She asked as she moved towards him, sitting down in the chair next to the bed. She looked the same as always. Beautiful, and in pink, as usual.

Alan was awake enough to feel some resentment, carefully hidden. Once again, foisted off to whoever was available.

"Hi Lady P," he said quietly. "I'm fine, I guess."

"I'll leave you then," the nurse said, and then headed towards the door.

"Thank you," Penelope said over her shoulder cheerfully.

"Let me know if you need anything."

"We will." As soon as the woman was out of the room and the door was closed, Penny turned to Alan with an exaggerated sigh of relief. "Good. Now, then, we can talk. Your father hated to not be able to come, but there was an oil well fire in the middle east and all hands were needed, so he asked me if I could come."

Figured, Alan thought. Same old, same old. It wasn't hard to see what was truly important to his father. He just shrugged.

Penny's bright, enthusiastic expression didn't change. "Well, I'm sure you're not feeling all that well. Why don't you go back to sleep? Jeff said he'd call as soon as he could, and I know you'll want to be awake enough to talk to him."

Alan just nodded. Avoiding the issue was working a whole lot better than direct confrontation, he'd noticed over the last several weeks. He intended to keep it up. Besides, sleeping was a great way to check out for awhile.

Penny's bright smile faded as he dropped off to sleep. Jeff had told her that Alan had withdrawn, but she had found that hard to believe. Exuberant Alan? Not a chance. But now she'd seen it for herself. Sitting back in her chair and picking up her magazine, she tried hard to convince herself that it was the resulting headache that was causing him to act that way.

TB TB TB TB TB

" . . . No, no, I think he's fine. Just a headache . . . no, he's asleep."

Alan woke to see that the morning sun was shining through the window, the bright spring light casting distinct shadows on the floor. From where he was, lying on his side, he could see the leaf patterns clearly. As he began to focus, he could hear Penny's voice speaking quietly.

"Oh! No, he's just waking up . . . yes, I'll see."

The next thing Alan knew, Penny was sitting next to him, rubbing his shoulder. "Good morning, darling. Your father's on the vid phone and is desperate to speak with you."

Alan just looked at her solemnly, not completely awake, but just enough to feel resentment. It was always about his dad.

"Hi Alan," Jeff's smiling face was apparent in the small screen of the handheld vidphone Penny held. Alan was just awake enough to see that his father was covered in soot and ash, and was apparently in the cockpit of Thunderbird Two.

"Hi," Alan managed to croak, then stopped to clear this throat and rub his eyes, trying desperately to wake up.

"How are you feeling, son?" Jeff asked in sympathy. "I understand you hit your head pretty hard."

"Uh-huh," Alan managed to respond. He really just wanted to go back to sleep.

"Head still hurt?"

"Uh-huh."

"It must," came Gordon's voice from the background. "That's the fewest words I've ever heard Alan say, ever."

Virgil laughed. "Normally you can't shut him up. Hope you feel better soon, Sprout!"

Jeff laughed at the sally. "I'll let you go back to sleep, Alan. I'm sorry I can't be there. Let Penny know if you need anything."

"'kay," Alan replied, and let his eyes slide shut, resentment building once again. He could hear Penny talking softly to his father in the background as she asked about the fire. As usual, he was bottom of the list.

'See how easy they are all together, going out on rescues?' his mind whispered to him. 'You're just the cog in the wheel. The fly in the ointment. The one trouble spot.'

"Shut up," Alan mumbled to himself.

"Alan?" Penny's voice rose in inquiry. "Did you say something?"

"Uh-uh," Alan mumbled, desperately seeking sleep once again - to shut out the voices in his head, the conversation between Penny and his father, and the picture of harmony between his father and brothers that made him feel so far apart from everything. For once, fate obliged him, and he slipped into oblivion.


	5. Chapter 5

**Consequences**

**By Spense**

**Chapter Four**

Alan wasn't particularly excited when school ended. It had been a wholly unsatisfying couple of months. Spring break had been such a high, but everything else had been such a downer.

He knew his grades had slipped some, but he was finding it hard to care. So he had gone from a B-/C average to a C/C-. So what. It wasn't like he was good at school anyway. Nobody really expected him to be either. Why not just fulfill the anticipated outcome?

He hadn't been particularly surprised when Parker had come to pick them up, either. As usual, the last man not involved in something important got stuck with the duty. He wasn't even surprised that Brains was along. He at least seemed to LIKE his son.

So Alan just sat quietly in FAB-1, listening to Brains and Fermat chatter, accepted the apology from his father passed on by Brains about his not being able to pick him up in person, and didn't react. He found it hard to even get mad about it anymore. Why bother? You can't change the pull of the tides, and he was tired of bucking the trend.

He was glad when they landed, and he could chuck his stuff in his room, and disappear for awhile. He changed into running clothes and headed out for the beach. He waved to Kyrano as he passed the gardens, but didn't stop.

He picked up a run as he hit the beach, settling into his stride quickly. The slap of his shoes on the firm, damp sand was therapeutic, and he felt himself relaxing as the rhythmic motion granted its own peace and distraction.

TB TB TB TB TB

Brains helped Fermat unpack in their suite of rooms. He was concerned about Alan. He knew Jeff was worried, and had been for some time. But after today's ride home, Brains felt he had just cause.

"Fermat, w-what's wrong with A-Alan?"

Fermat stopped what he was doing and turned to his father, a worried expression on his face. "I don't k-know Dad. I wish I-I did."

"Has he been this w-withdrawn at school?"

"Uh-huh. I can't get him to do a-anything. He's like a r-robot. He goes through the motions, but d-doesn't seem to get enthusiastic about any-thing anymore. A-and he gets mad if I-I say anything about it. He doesn't e-even watch the rescues w-when they're on TV either. He acts like he doesn't care!"

If anything, this just raised Brains' level of concern further.

"It's okay F-Fermat. I'll talk to Mr. Tracy about it, but I'm sure now that A-Alan is home, things w-will improve."

Unfortunately, Brains was wrong. Things just got worse.

The uproar started as soon as the Tracy's returned from the latest rescue. It had been a long one. A building collapse in a crowded section of Pakistan. The language barrier, the overcrowded streets and lack of basic amenities has all made the procedures stressful, and had resulted in a larger loss of life than anybody liked to see.

Jeff and his sons were tired, stressed and on a short fuse. So, it didn't help Jeff to return to his office and find Alan's report card on the desk. He knew it was a mistake to look at it before he'd even greeted his youngest son, but there was just something fatalistic about that innocent looking envelope. And the inevitable happened.

Furious at the results, he summoned Alan to his office, and was not happy to be told he was 'out', and nobody knew exactly where. He waited nearly two hours before Alan finally showed up.

Alan wasn't in a good mood either, having heard about the summons from Kyrano, who was still in the garden and the first to see him. Then from Ohana, in the kitchen as he stopped by to grab a granola bar.

Then he ran the gauntlet of all of his brothers, each individually. First Gordon, coming in from the pool as Alan passed out of the kitchen.

"Well, you did it again, Sprout! Dad's mad at you for something," Gordon said with a grin as he tousled Alan's hair.

Alan ducked in irritation, but didn't say anything as he made his way down the hall, Gordon's voice following him.

"I won the pool, you'll be glad to know. I said you'd piss him off in less than two hours. Welcome home, by the way."

Virgil was just entering the lounge as a scowling Alan headed down the hall. "Geez, Alan, watch it," Virgil commented as he was nearly mowed down. "You do know how to stir things up, don't you?" He said grinning.

Scott, clearly having just come from his father's office and was heading towards the elevator as Alan came off of it, shook his head in reprimand. "Alan, you know better than to go off and not leave word where you're going! I know it's an island, but still. And Dad's been waiting nearly two hours, so he's pretty pissed. So you'd better watch your mouth."

Alan just pushed passed him without saying a thing, he was pretty pissed himself.

Scott looked after him in concern, then continued towards the elevator. World War III was about to erupt, and it was best just to let it run it's course.

The meeting was predictable - at least at first. Jeff was so angry by the time Alan finally showed up, he didn't even yell. He just began chewing Alan out in a quiet, firm voice that was far worse than yelling could ever be.

He covered Alan's lack of leaving a note, his grades, his disappointment in Alan's lack of focus and maturity, and finally his overall attitude with a calm that was frightening.

One part of Alan considered that he'd probably never seen his father quite so angry. But Alan had probably never been so angry himself.

The voice in his head was hissing to him. 'Does any of this really surprise you? You've known what they all think of you. You know they only notice you when you do something wrong. It's always about their precious Thunderbirds.' Alan's anger burned hot and deep, and with it came a brutal, chilling calm. The same calm he'd been feeling for weeks crystallized into a deep, wide blanket, covering everything with a tight, rigid control.

Jeff finally wound to a halt, so angry that he hadn't even noticed that his normally volatile son hadn't said a word, when normally he would have been engaging in a shouting match by now.

"Well, do you have anything to say for yourself?" Jeff finally finished, his face and voice stern.

'Why bother?' Alan's mind whispered to him. 'He never listens anyway. None of them do.' Alan considered this. It was true. So why bother.

"No," Alan said flatly, and stood silent.

Jeff regarded him for a moment, becoming more angry (if possible) at the sullen look on his son's face, and the unrepentant tone of voice. Somehow it was easier to take a yelling, pouting, tantrum throwing Alan, than this sullen, silent boy in front of him.

"Fine. Then, you're grounded from any Thunderbird Training for the next two weeks. You'll help Kyrano every morning for that time with whatever chores he needs done. And consider shaping your attitude up young man, or you won't be on the team all summer. Understand?"

"Yes, sir," Alan said coldly. "Am I excused?"

"Yes. Go to your room. Stay there until morning. After breakfast, go directly to Kyrano."

Alan didn't even reply, just turned on his heel and left.

Jeff exhaled heavily as he left and put his head in his hands, gradually calming down. He stayed that way until a voice broke the silence.

"Well? Is it safe to come in?"

Jeff looked up to see Scott looking inquiringly from the door. "Yes, yes, come on in," he said, exhaling heavily.

"I didn't hear any shouting. It can't have been that bad," Scott offered as he dropped into a chair.

"No," Jeff said thoughtfully, "actually, I think it was worse."

"What do you mean?" Scott asked.

"I've been sitting here thinking about it. I mean, Alan didn't react. He just stood there, sullen, didn't move, didn't say a word, and left when I finished."

"Well, being passive aggressive is a typical teenage trait," Scott said with a grin.

"Have you been talking to John again?" Jeff grumbled.

Scott laughed outright. "No, but I know Johnny would be saying the exact same thing."

Jeff grinned in spite of himself. "Yes, well, he did. Last night when we talked." His other blond son was back up on TB5, now that it was repaired, and he missed him. He'd taken to talking to him nightly. He sobered. "I grounded Alan from training for two weeks."

Scott whistled softly. "Wow. You were mad. How did he take it?"

"I just told you," Jeff frowned. "No reaction." He slammed a hand on his desk. "Damm, I wish I knew what was wrong with that kid."

Scott jumped in spite of himself, then thought a minute. "Dad, I think maybe you're worrying too much. Alan's fourteen. He's moody, defiant, and obnoxious. In other words, a typical teenager. Besides, he's home now. You can keep an eye on him."

In spite of his son's logical words, Jeff still felt a tendril of anxiety deep within. Maybe he was just being overprotective of Alan, after all, he was the youngest by five years. Maybe his son was right and he was reading too much into this. He forced himself to breath deep. "Maybe you're right Scott, maybe you're right."

Scott smiled reassuringly. "I'll try to talk to him, how about that?"

Jeff nodded assent. "But not tonight. We all need time to calm down."

TB TB TB TB TB

Alan found that he really enjoyed working in the garden with Kyrano. It turned out to not be that much of a punishment. The gardens were quiet and calm - soothing somehow. And Kyrano wasn't given to a lot of conversation. He'd tell Alan what he needed done, give him instructions, then leave him alone. He was always available if Alan had questions, and never treated him like he was stupid when he asked.

Alan had never realized just how much his brother's did that to him. They never wanted to take the time to teach him about anything, even when he'd been learning about the Thunderbirds. There was always a lot of sighing when he asked them to repeat something, or snapping when he did something wrong. Not with John so much, but Alan so seldom saw John, it didn't really matter. He'd gone back up to the repaired space station before Alan had returned home from school.

But working in the garden was different, and Alan found it peaceful. He hadn't realized how much he'd been craving peace. He often worked a few hours into the afternoon, after his sentence was up for the day, just because it was relaxing. He'd lose track of time, as he dug in the dirt, or pruned the vegetation.

'You see, that's the problem. Your family, as always. You don't fit in and they know it. That's why they push you aside,' his mind supplied. Alan agreed with his very vocal subconscious. They were the problem, but this helped.

Jeff had tried talk to him a couple of times, trying to get him to open up. Alan just wasn't interested. He knew where he stood now. Even if he hadn't found the letters over Spring Break, the latest incidents would have proved the point to him pretty clearly. Therefore, he didn't see much sense in bucking the trend, or in talking about it further.

Scott kept cornering him as well. Virgil and Gordon too. Alan frowned as he thought about it. It just amazed him that all the times they ignored him, when they wanted to talk, he was supposed to just drop everything and oblige.

But the silent thing worked really, really well, and pretty soon, they all would give up. But they always left saying 'that if he wanted to talk, they would be available'. Yeah right. Alan knew where that went. If Alan wanted something, there was no way any of them would be around. He knew that from experience.

TB TB TB TB TB

Alan's punishment ended quicker than he'd thought possible and his Thunderbird training began again in earnest. And if Alan had been frustrated before, he was way beyond that point now. The whole thing really set his teeth on edge. It was all he could do to bite his tongue when one or another brother snapped at him, or pushed him brusquely aside to fix something he'd done wrong.

Alan and Gordon had always gotten along well, but training on TB4 was straining that relationship to the max. He discovered that his easy-going brother was a real perfectionist when it came to the little yellow submarine, and his military manner made Scott look like a pansy.

He finally took to helping Kyrano in the garden before breakfast, as it helped him calm down and get ready for the onslaught of the day. It didn't help that Fermat and TinTin were having a real ball learning, and that his brother's seemed to be so much easier on them.

Alan was beginning to think he really didn't want to be a part of International Rescue at all. Not if it was going to be like this. He was finally seeing that he was never going to be treated like part of the team, and he really wasn't sure if he even wanted to try anymore.

But for the time being, he muddled through the best he could. He tried his hardest in training, and on the simulators, and when they went out on actual rescues, where he, TinTin and Fermat worked the background - well out of any danger.

He hated it. He hated feeling useless and unnecessary. And he was tired. Tired of fighting for a place that should be rightfully his, something that he was beginning to understand would never happen. He was the youngest of five sons, and the other four were more than enough. There just was no place for him.


	6. Chapter 6

**Consequences**

**by Spense**

**Chapter Five**

Alan paused in the hallway at the raised voices coming from his father's study.

" . . . he's too young!" Scott's voice was raised in anger. "Plus he's spoiled rotten and completely unreliable."

His father answered, saying something Alan didn't catch. He didn't need to. He'd heard enough.

Stomach turning, he turned on his heel and retreated outside to the private beach he considered 'his', deciding he rather skip dinner that night. His stomach didn't want the food, and he sure didn't want the company of his family.

'Spoiled rotten and completely unreliable.' The words echoed in his head.

'See, you were right. That's exactly what they think of you,' his thoughts whispered to him.

Alan put his head in his hands. He knew what had sparked that comment. The rescue that afternoon. He had been working crowd control, along with Fermat and TinTin. It was a wreck at a race track. One of the cars had caused a massive collision and had gone up into the stands. The panic had caused even more injuries. He and the other two teenagers were supposed to keep the onlookers back out of the way.

Alan had gotten distracted as he'd looked at one of the cars. He'd always been interested in race cars, and this one really caught his attention. A panicked woman had broken through the line past him, trying to find her husband, followed by two others before he'd gotten his mind back on business.

Scott had been furious, and had dressed him down right then and there. It was all Alan could do to not yell back. He'd actually opened his mouth to say something, but Scott had cut him off, telling him that he was field commander and Alan needed to keep his trap shut and do his job.

'Talk to you anytime, huh, Scott,' Alan thought, furiously. 'Yeah right'.

Alan sighed heavily and looked up at the waves. He'd been at fault and he knew it. But Scott would never had humiliated any of the others in public that way. Nope, Alan was always it. And he was tired of it. There just seemed no way out, and he was beginning to get desperate.

TB TB TB TB TB

"Okay Scott, that's enough," Jeff broke his older son off with a sigh. He gazed at him for a moment. "I know it was an issue today, but Alan's just young. As for spoiled - well maybe. But no more than the rest of you. You just have forgotten what it's like to be a teenager. And you were an adult when you began with IR. Remember, Gordon had the same kind of concentration problems when he started," Jeff pointed out.

Scott just stood, arms crossed, face glowering, defiant.

"Right?" Jeff demanded.

"Right," Scott snapped, not relaxing one iota.

"Okay, what's really the problem?" Jeff asked sharply. "I already have one son refusing to communicate with me, I really don't need another," he finished, clearly irritated.

Scott looked startled, then defeated. He slunk down in a chair opposite Jeff and put his head in his hands dejectedly. A muffled "sorry" echoed from the depths, followed by a long moment of silence. Finally Scott looked up and met his father's eyes.

"I'm worried about him."

'Well, join the club,' Jeff thought darkly before he continued aloud. "So am I."

"You should have seen him today Dad. He was furious with me, then he just shut off. I've never seen anything like it. It's like he's given up."

He met his father's eyes. Jeff could see the concern. "Virgil and Gordon see it too. They're worried sick as well. Virgil made the comment that he can't seem to engage Alan in anything anymore. It's like Alan's just going through the motions."

"I know," Jeff sighed.

"What's happening, Dad?" Scott asked.

Jeff was shaken. Scott was always in control. That's why he was field commander. To see him at such a loss was alarming.

"I don't know. I really don't know." Jeff said, as much at a loss as was his eldest son.

TB TB TB TB TB

Alan's head was pounding by the time he slowly climbed the stairs back to the villa. It was twilight, and he'd come to no conclusions out on the rocks. No solution was presenting itself. He was beginning to feel frantic about it. He just didn't know what to do.

One thing though, he was going to get something for this headache. He swung by the infirmary to get some aspirin. The place was empty, as was normal when nobody needed it.

Alan's nose wrinkled a little at the sharp odor of antiseptic. He never liked it in here, and spent as little time as possible. A hangover from the days following Gordon's hydrofoil accident. He'd spent hours on end here with Gordon, at that time, helping him deal with the pain and get through the aftermath. He'd never been comfortable in here since.

Opening the door of the glass fronted drug cabinet, Alan grabbed a bottle of aspirin, then stopped, bottle in hand. He stared at all of the medication in the cabinet. Rows of it. Pain pills, sedatives, strong narcotics, anti-biotics. They began to whisper to him, softly. 'I can offer peace,' they told him. Alan felt mesmerized.

One valium sure would take the edge off, he thought in spite of himself. 'A whole bottle would do more,' his mind told him. Alan closed his eyes, in turmoil once more.

"Alan!"

Virgil's voice broke the spell, and he swung round to look at him. "What?"

Virgil was looking at him strangely. "What do you need, Alan? Is everything okay?"

"Sure, fine. I've got a headache and I needed some aspirin."

"Okay," Virgil said, nodding slowly.

They stared at each other for a moment.

"What are you doing here?" Alan finally asked.

"I wanted to use the microscope. Brains is monopolizing the one in the lab."

"Oh," was all Alan could think of to say in reply. He turned back to the aspirin bottle he was holding, opened it, shook two pills out and replaced the bottle in the cabinet. Pouring a glass of water, he tossed the pills in his mouth, took a mouthful of water and washed them down as Virgil reached over him and shut the cabinet.

As Alan turned to go, Virgil called behind him, "Are you sure you're okay, Alan?"

Alan turned, and just said, "Fine," and left, feeling Virgil watching him as he left the room and headed down the hallway.

TB TB TB TB TB

Alan tossed and turned well into the night. He just couldn't sleep. The memory of Scott bawling him out on the track just replayed in his mind. He'd begin to drop off, and instead of chewing him out, Scott would be saying, "Your useless. I wish you'd never been born. All we have to do is baby-sit you."

Alan would wake up in a sweat. Finally, at two in the morning, he gave in and headed down to the infirmary. One valium wouldn't do any harm. Maybe he'd be able to finally get some sleep.

He padded across the dim room, the only light coming from the open shutters. The dim moonlight bathed the room in a pale glow, offering only enough light to make sure he didn't run into anything.

Alan reached for the medicine cabinet, but stopped as a bright green glow caught his attention. It was a keypad. On the glass fronted medicine cupboard. Alan tried the door. Locked. Locked with a keypad lock.

He stared at it a moment, then grimaced. Virgil. Had to be. Geez, they really didn't trust him, did they?

A part of his mind answered, 'well, you're here for valium, aren't you?'. Yeah, he was. But for one. To help him sleep.

Disillusioned, he stared at the lock once more, then turned back to his room. Going back to bed, he stared at the ceiling until morning. There was no peace to be had.

TB TB TB TB TB

Breakfast was no different than any other morning. No mention was made of the lock on the medicine cabinet, and Alan didn't allude to it either.

The table was full of food, and the normal chatter that went with a Tracy family meal. Plans for the day, discussion of machines needing servicing, a rough schedule for everybody. And talk about International Rescue and the Thunderbirds. Always that. Sometimes Alan wondered if anybody had any other real interests.

Alan, as was his habit of late, just ate quietly, not contributing much to the conversation. Nobody ever listened to anything he said anyway.

Finally, as the chairs were all scraping back, and plates were being cleared, Jeff got Alan's attention and motioned for him to follow. Alan did so without a word.

Up in the office, Alan was silent as he sat down in front of his father's desk. Jeff looked somewhat ill at ease.

"Alan," he said finally. "I'm suspending your Thunderbird training."

Alan just looked solemnly at him, not saying a word. What was there to say? After yesterday, it was no real surprise. What Scott wanted, Scott usually got. That was the way of it in this house. Scott thought he shouldn't be a part of IR, then Alan wouldn't be a part of IR. It wasn't like it mattered much anyway.

The silence built.

"Don't you want to know why?" Jeff asked finally.

Alan shrugged, and allowed the silence to build awhile again. "It doesn't really matter," he said finally.

Jeff was surprised. He waited for his son to say more. Years of experience in the boardroom had taught him that silence is usually filled, so you waited until the other person spoke in order to break the barrier.

Alan didn't have years of experience. And although he'd gotten very good at keeping quiet, he was still no match for his father in these types of games in power and persuasion. He finally added, almost inadvertently, "I'm not sure I really want to be a part of it anyway." He clamped his mouth shut after that, surprised at himself for saying even that. He wouldn't be baited again.

Jeff looked shocked. This was not the way he had thought this conversation would go. Alan's dream for years had been to be part of International Rescue. This was new.

"When did you decide this?" he asked carefully, looking at his stone-faced son in front of him. He didn't know this boy anymore, and that frightened him.

Alan just shrugged. "It doesn't really matter," he repeated.

"Yes, it does matter, Alan. It matters to me. When did you decide?" He repeated.

Alan just shrugged again.

The silence dragged on, weighing both of them down, but this time, it wasn't Alan who budged. Jeff's growing panic at his son's behavior made him crack.

"Alan, please talk to me," Jeff pleaded. "I don't know what's happening with you anymore. I'm worried."

"Don't be," Alan said, getting up. "I'm fine. May I be excused?"

Jeff looked like he'd like to refuse, but he really didn't know what else to say.

"All right," he finally said, with regret clear on his face.

Jeff stared after him long after Alan had vanished from sight.

A tap on the door frame startled him. Scott and Virgil were looking in.

"Well, how did it go?" Virgil asked cautiously.

Jeff waved them in. "About the same as everything else lately. Alan just clammed up. He did mention however, that he had been thinking that he didn't want to be part of IR anyway."

"Did you believe him?" Scott asked.

"I don't know. I'd like to believe that it was just reaction to telling him he was off training for awhile, but I don't know. That would be a normal reaction, and Alan's doing anything but reacting normally right now." Jeff grimaced. "I was really hoping that this would start a dialogue. I'm really worried about him, and I just can't trust his stability out on a rescue right now, or in control of one of the birds, for that matter."

"Did he . . . did he ask about the lock on the drug cabinet?" Virgil asked worriedly. "I mean, that may have been overkill, but I don't know . . ." He trailed off uncertainly.

"Virgil, you did the right thing," Jeff tried to reassure his son. Virgil had been so shaken by his encounter with Alan in the infirmary, that he'd installed the lock right then, and told Jeff about it later. "I would have done the same thing myself. We just don't know what's happening in Alan's head right now. And no, he didn't mention it."

"Okay," Virgil said, still not convinced. "I just hate to believe that . . ." he trailed off again.

"I know. We all do," Jeff replied. "But that instability and doubt is why I just can't have him operating any of the Thunderbirds or involved in any rescues right now."

Virgil breathed deep. "I know." He paused, then continued quietly. "Well, okay then. I'm going to go work on TB2. She's feeling sluggish on the port side." And with that, he left.

Scott looked after him for a second, made sure he was gone, then turned back to his father. "That incident in the infirmary really upset Virgil, Dad," Scott commented, unconsciously echoing Jeff's earlier thoughts. "He told me that Alan just looked bleak, and he was studying the labels pretty carefully. He really thought that he might be suicidal. He was scared to death about what might have happened if he hadn't just happened to need a microscope right at that moment."

Jeff's expression was also bleak. "I know. And that worries me too. I just can't reach him," he finished in frustration. "Heaven knows I've tried!"

"Gordon's been keeping a pretty close eye on him too. Did you know that he watches Alan from the Round House through Johnny's telescope when the kid goes running?"

"No," Jeff said surprised, "I didn't."

Scott continued. "Yep. And I know Kyrano likes to have Alan working in the garden where he can keep an eye on him. He told me so."

Jeff nodded his understanding. "Thanks for telling me Scott. Now if you don't mind, I need to do some thinking. Close the door on your way out?"

"Sure, Dad," Scott smiled, understanding. "Will do."

After Scott left the room, Jeff put his head in his hands, thinking hard. Finally, he came to a decision, and picked up the phone, his resolve hardened like steel. He was not going to lose his son.

He spent the majority of that day on the phone.

TB TB TB TB TB

Alan was grateful to not have Thunderbird training. Going into his room, he changed into his running clothes. Splashing in the pool caught his attention. Going to the open window, he could see Gordon, TinTin, and Fermat playing water volleyball. The splashing and laughter made him feel more cut off than ever. He closed his eyes in pain for a moment.

Going to his dresser, he looked at the Thunderbird pin sitting there in the place of honor. He remembered how he felt when he'd gotten it. All the hope and promise. What a crock!

With a vindictive movement, he swept it off the top of the dresser and into the wastepaper basket, then without a backward look, left the room.


	7. Chapter 7

**CONSEQUENCES **

**By Spense**

**Chapter Six**

Alan sat beside his father in Jeff's large Mercedes sedan. Jeff had announced the morning following his removal of Alan from training that he needed to go to New York for a business meeting. He also indicated that he wanted Alan to come with him. Alan had had another growth spurt and needed more clothes. This was as good a time as any, besides they could spend sometime together for a change.

Normally Alan would have jumped at the chance to spend a couple of days alone with his father. Time was a precious commodity given the large family, Tracy Enterprises, IR and Alan's schooling.

But now Alan knew how they all felt about him, so he was no longer thrilled. It was just easier to go with the flow that to try to argue about it.

He managed to isolate himself on the flight to New York by wearing his i-Pod most of the time. When Jeff indicated that he had a meeting out of town, and that they could go to lunch on the river, Alan just shrugged and went along with it, using the i-Pod once again to cut himself off.

He may have no choice in being physically present, but he sure could be mentally absent.

It wasn't until they drove up to the gates which said 'Coastland Clinic', that Alan realized something more may be going on. He slowly took off his i-pod headphones and sat up. The gates opened slowly as Jeff announced his name to the speaker.

As the car wound up the smoothly curving driveway through the lush green, tree-filled lawn, Alan looked suspiciously with narrowed eyes at his father.

Jeff stared straight ahead as he drove, the tightness in his jaw the only visible sign of his tension.

Pulling under the portico, Jeff stopped the car, turned off the engine and turned to his son. "Alan . . ."

Alan didn't listen, he just got out of the car.

Jeff trailed off with a sigh as he noted his son studiously ignoring him.

A man and a woman came out to greet them. Alan ignored them as well as he looked out over the grounds. The house was an elegant mansion with a river stone portico and trim. He could catch a glimpse of the ocean through the trees, and could see kids here and there on the grounds.

"Mr. Tracy," the woman said with a smile. She wore khakis and a polo shirt, with a white lab coat. "I'm Dr. Taylor." She held out her hand to Jeff.

Alan ignored her completely as he took in the scene. The man, wearing the same khakis and a polo shirt with the clinic's name embroidered on it, but without the lab coat, opened the trunk of the car and began to unload Alan's suitcase. He looked at it with an ironic snort. 'Figured', he thought. Why wasn't he surprised? He should have known. That was his Dad's standard operating procedure when it came to Alan. Send him away. As usual.

"Hello Alan," the woman said cheerfully, ignoring Alan's studied silence.

"Come with me," she said and gestured into the stately old building. Alan moved as his father showed no signs of moving until he did. Again, it figured; making sure he wasn't going to bolt.

They made their was up a curving staircase, stained in light oak, with light white walls. The feeling was that of brightness and light.

As they entered an office on the second floor, a man in the same khakis and polo shirt but with a lab coat over it stood up from behind the desk with a smile.

"Mr. Tracy. I'm Dr. Masonn. We spoke on the phone." He held out his hand to Jeff, who took it, smiling.

Alan looked on wryly. Well, as usual, he was the odd man out.

"And you must be Alan," Dr. Masonn said with a big smile. He held his hand out.

Alan took it without saying a word, or changing expression.

He continued seemingly without noticing Alan's rudeness, but Alan could see that wasn't the case. That man's eyes noticed everything.

"Your father has asked for our help, Alan. And that's what we do here. Give some space and some assistance to parents and kids who are having trouble. We give you a safe place to stay, a time out so to speak for the issues in your life, and somebody to talk to."

Alan took it all in stonily. It was about what he'd expected. His father was dumping his problems off on somebody else again. And that problem was usually Alan. He'd spent more time away from home in the last several years than he'd spent at home.

"You'll have a phone in your room. It will connect you with anyplace on the grounds, and will have a dedicated line directly to your father. You can speak with him anytime you'd like," Dr. Taylor said with a winning smile, as though this was a great selling point. "Any other calls will have to go through me or Dr. Mason.

Great. So he could talk to the one person he never wanted to speak with anytime he wanted, but not to anybody else. Well, that sucked.

"Alan, I'm sorry, but we need help. I just can't reach you anymore," Jeff said desperately. He felt so guilty, and at such a loss as he looked at his son's expressionless face. He just didn't know what to do anymore. "I just want you to be happy. But you aren't, and I don't know what to do to help you. I'm worried about you." Jeff's anguish was palpable.

At that moment a door opened onto the tense little scene, and another young man, in the same khakis and polo shirt uniform entered. "Hi Alan. I'm Mike. I'll take you to your room."

Alan turned wordlessly to follow.

"Alan, please," Jeff pleaded, putting a hand on his son's shoulder as he stepped forward to hug him.

Alan adroitly step sided his father, forcing him to drop his hand, as he turned back to face him. He looked silently at him for a second, then uttered with a quiet intensity that was horrifying, "I hate you."

Jeff swallowed hard. The intensity of those words were made more powerful by the unemotional tone. He watched as his son exited the room, following Mike obediently, who closed the door after them.

"It will be okay, Mr. Tracy," Dr. Masonn's voice said compassionately as Jeff stared blindly at the closed door.

Jeff felt as if his world had ended.

He turned unseeingly back towards the desk. Sinking into a big leather chair in front of it, he buried his face in his hands, saying softly, "Will it? I don't think so."

Dr. Taylor put her hand on his shoulder as she sat down in the chair next to him as Dr. Masonn sat down again in his desk chair.

"Oh, it will get better. This is the hardest. Alan's just upset. Being blindsided like this is the best way, but it isn't the easiest. You're doing the right thing."

Jeff sighed deeply and straightened up, leaning tiredly against the back of the chair.

"I've never had to do anything like this with any of my sons. But I'm so worried about Alan. I kept thinking I'd wake up one morning and find he'd overdosed or slit his wrists or some other thing."

"It's a worry. But we'll take care of him here, and get to the bottom of the issues," Dr. Masonn commented. "He won't be able to harm himself here."

"What have I done wrong?" Jeff wondered aloud.

"Probably nothing," Dr. Taylor answered briskly. "Kids today have so many issues to deal with. And the youngest of five is difficult. Made more so by all of you being so lauded." She smiled. "It's part of growing up. He'll be fine. We'll send you videos of each session. And you know you can log in and check on him online."

"Yes," Jeff said relieved. It was one reason he'd chosen this place. He would have access. "When can I come see him again?"

"We'll let you know. As we talked about, you'll be integrally involved. But we need to let him calm down and relax first. He needs some time to decompress."

"Okay. Let me know," Jeff begged. It was uncharactistic of him, but when it came to his sons, he'd do anything.

"Of course."

TB TB TB TB TB

Alan looked around the room he had been left in. It was a bright room, a cheerful light blue, with light oak furniture. There was a double bed, a night stand, desk and chair, a book case with some reading material (carefully chosen he was sure), an armoire and an arm chair.

There was a large picture window with a window seat opening out the back of the house, looking over the wide lawn and the river. Alan opened the window and looked out on the lawn.. It was huge. There was a volleyball net and a croquet course set up, as well as Adirondack chairs dotting the expanse. There were kids of varying ages involved in various activities from reading to playing a pick up game of baseball. He also noticed a large number of people in matching khakis and polo shirts. Staff, apparently.

'Home sweet home', Alan thought sarcastically. 'Yippee'.

Mike had told him that he had the run of the place. Resident rooms (Alan noticed that he was referred to as a 'resident', not a 'patient'. Yeah right) were scattered among the first and second floor, as well as the doctor's offices. The dining room, library, TV room and game room were all on the first floor. The third floor was off limits to the residents, this fact enforced by keypad locks. Mike had told him that this was the infirmary, labs, and other offices. He was welcome to go anywhere on the grounds, and the first and second floor public rooms.

Alan noticed Mike hadn't said anything about leaving the grounds. And Alan had seen the gate and the high wall when he'd arrived. So really Mike hadn't needed too. Essentially, Alan was in prison.

Finally, he turned back to the room, and began to wander around, exploring half-heartedly. Checking in the armoire, he noticed that all of his things were unpacked. He also noticed that he had no belts and nothing sharp. He snorted. So they were afraid he might harm himself.

The bookcase did hold some interesting reading material, though. And it held a stash of Ohana's brownies, chocolate chip cookies and granola bars, along with a note from her letting him know that she'd send more periodically. Apparently that was permitted, since the note was still present. He grabbed a cookie and a granola bar and munching, continued exploring.

He meandered over to the nightstand where he found a framed picture set up on the small table. It was a family portrait of all six of them, taken last Christmas. Looking at the smiling faces, Alan felt a stir of hot anger run through him. In a violent motion, he opened the drawer of the little table, swept the picture into it, face down, and slammed it shut. They were the last people he wanted to see.

Alan left the room without looking back.

TB TB TB TB TB

"Well, how did it go?" Scott demanded of his father through the vidphone.

They were linked in a conference call from the New York apartment, Thunderbird Five and Jeff's office in Tracy Island.

"Not very well," Jeff admitted, clearly shaken.

"Dad?" John asked carefully.

Jeff closed his eyes, clearly in pain. When he opened them, he continued. "He told me he hated me."

Virgil caught his breath.

"Well, that's something, isn't it?" Gordon said hopefully. "I mean, at least he showed some emotion."

"No Gordon, he didn't. And that just made it worse. He was just stating a fact."

"Dear lord," Scott muttered.

"But they won't let him harm himself, right?" Virgil said, clearly worried. The incident in the infirmary was clearly still weighing heavily on his mind.

"No, Virgil," Jeff said wearily, "They won't. And that's one thing we can be grateful for."

"Thank goodness for small favors," John commented sarcastically.

All eyes swung towards him, astonished at the bitter tone in the normally mild tempered man.

"Sorry," he muttered.

"Don't be," Scott said. "We all feel the same way." He looked back at his father. "Dad, do you think this will work?"

"It has to, Scott. I just don't know what else to do. But at least he's safe from himself there."


	8. Chapter 8

**CONSEQUENCES**

**By Spense**

**Chapter Seven**

Alan sat in the room with Dr. Taylor, and looked out the window, listening to her drone on. He'd tuned her out quite awhile ago, just as he had with any of the other sessions they had, or the meetings with Dr. Masonn over the last week and a half.

He really wasn't interested in what they had to say. He knew his father had just abdicated the 'Alan problem' on somebody else, as was his normal operating procedure. He'd be here until Jeff decided he could deal with him again.

It wasn't like there was anything wrong with him anyway. Alan knew it was easier for Jeff to say his son had a problem instead of admitting than he wasn't interested in his youngest son. Alan had finally realized that he'd be ferried off to some school or clinic or camp or something until he was eighteen. Then they would all be happy when he could leave home and make his own way. He just hoped he could make it through the next four years.

The one thing Alan could say about this place was that it was peaceful. And for that he was grateful, even if he did have to put up with the twice daily sessions with the shrinks.

"Alan, am I that boring?" Dr. Taylor said with a laugh.

That laugh got Alan's attention. He was used to be yelled at when he was like this, and told to quit sulking and pouting. Generally this kind of behavior wasn't a cause for amusement. He swung his head from the window to look at her, mildly astonished.

"I know you haven't heard a thing I've said. So let me ask you one question. You answer me honestly, and we'll quit for today."

Alan considered this. They had another half hour to go. He could answer one question, if only to get out of here. He shrugged agreement.

"Okay." She smiled. "I know you've been having nightmares, and not sleeping."

Alan didn't ask how she knew this, but he guessed that he was under surveillance most of the time. It didn't surprise him. Not much did. He was pretty sure that privacy was an unknown commodity here.

"That can't be pleasant. You look exhausted every morning, and like you've got a splitting headache."

She was right. The nightmares had been getting worse. Everything from Scott telling him he was worthless, his Dad turning his back on him, Virgil handing him a pill bottle and telling him to take it all and just get out of their lives sooner rather than later, and more. They were just never-ending. He was really getting near the end of his rope. All he wanted was some peace.

Alan gazed at her, waiting for the question.

"Alan," Dr. Taylor leaned forward towards him, "Do you really want to live with those nightmares anymore? Because I can help make them go away. So tell me. What do you want?"

Alan surprised himself as he blurted out without thinking, "I just want the voices in my head to go away." He froze as he realized what he'd just said.

But Dr. Taylor wasn't appalled. She just sat back looking pleased. "Fine. I can help with that Alan. And thank you, that's the first honest thing you've said to me. Okay," she said with a smile, "I'll keep my end of the bargain. We're done today."

Alan got up slowly and left the room, not sure why he'd said that, and very surprised at her reaction. She didn't seem upset, or angry, or think he was crazy. For the first time in a long time, Alan went to his room, thinking hard.

TB TB TB TB TB

"So what are they thinking?" John asked his father, via the vidphone that same afternoon.

Jeff was looking over the transcript of Alan's sessions with the psychiatrics that day. He shook his head worriedly. "They still don't know. Definitely severe clinical depression, that's certain. But we already knew that. However Alan made a comment about voices in his head today."

"They aren't thinking Scyzophrenia, are they?" John asked, horrified.

Jeff looked just as shaken. "They won't confirm anything. Dr. Taylor says that they still don't know enough to make a diagnosis. But they did draw more blood today to check his seretonin levels. They're trying to get the depression to a handleble level before they do anything else."

"Oh, lord," John groaned. "Why can't anything ever go easy for Alan."

Jeff agreed. Nothing ever seemed too.

TB TB TB TB TB

It was late evening when everybody wandered into Jeff's office one at a time. It had been a very quiet day and a nice break from the multitudes of rescues they had been involved with lately.

"Hey Dad," Virgil said, aimlessly heading for a chair. "Are you going to call Johnny?"

"I thought I might," Jeff said smiling.

"Wait a sec, will ya? Scott's on his way up."

Jeff nodded agreement.

Pretty soon, Scott was ambling his way in, shoving Gordon along in front of him, much the same way one would keep a ball rolling along in front of them.

"Ow, go easy on the shoulders," Gordon was complaining.

"Look who I found in the laundry room, exchanging powdered bleach for the regular detergent," Scott said in disgust, giving Gordon another shove.

Gordon snickered. "How do you know I wasn't changing it back?"

Three faces looked up at him in horror. "If you were, you'll be replacing every piece of ruined clothing out of your own pocket," Jeff said sternly.

"Whoa!" Gordon said, surprised at the reaction to his teasing. "I didn't, okay? I just wanted to get Scott a little revved up. Everything's fine," Gordon finished reassuringly. "I'm much more subtle than that when I want to play a joke. I just wanted to yank Scott's chain a little."

Jeff relaxed, reflecting that there was a great deal of truth in that statement, and sighed. "Sorry Gordon. I've just been a little tense."

"I know, Dad," Gordon said without a hint of humor. "I think we all are. I guess that's why I was trying to lighten things up a little." He looked downcast as he dropped into a chair.

"How is Alan anyway?" Scott asked, voicing the subject they were all thinking about.

"Let's get John on the vid and I'll fill you in," Jeff suggested. John may have already heard the latest news, but Jeff was really needing these nightly sessions for his own peace of mind. Just to have his sons all around him, even if it was just via video link.

It wasn't long before they were connected, and Jeff was giving them the gist of day's sessions. There was dead silence when he told them about Alan's comment about hearing voices.

"Son of a . . ." Gordon began bitterly, but broke off and looked away as Jeff glared pointedly at him. "Sorry."

"Damm," Scott whistled softly. "That's not a good sign."

"No," Jeff agreed, narrowing his eyes at Scott's language as well. In his concern, Scott didn't even notice. "No, it's not," Jeff finished sadly.

"What can we do?" Virgil asked quietly.

"Not much right now," Jeff commented. "Just wait and let the professionals do their job. The only good thing was that he actually told Dr. Taylor about it."

"No kidding," Virgil said in relief. "It's a start I guess."

TB TB TB TB TB

The next morning, Alan snagged an Adirondack chair in the middle of the lawn and put his i-Pod headphones on. He needed to think. He had slept better the night before. Maybe telling Dr. Taylor actually had helped.

He shuddered. But still. Now she probably thought he was crazy.

'Maybe you are,' his mind whispered to him. Alan firmly quashed that thought. No, he wasn't crazy. He knew he wasn't.

The music soothed him somewhat. It at least reminded him that there was a normal world out there. One where parents actually cared about their kids and didn't shuffle them away when they became problems.

But Alan really didn't think he was a problem. Or at least that much of one. He didn't do anything any worse than any of the rest of his brothers had, or at least he didn't think he did.

'What about blowing up the chemistry lab at school?' his mind whispered to him again.

That was just an accident, Alan argued with himself. It could have happened to anybody.

'But it didn't, it happened to you.'

Alan cranked up his music a little louder in an attempt to drown out his thoughts.

'Dad thought you were a problem before you were even born.'

Alan ruthlessly quashed that thought. It was old news, and he didn't want to dwell on it. His relationship with his family was a lost cause, that was a given. International Rescue was always going to rate higher with both his father and brothers in the priority department than he was, he had no doubts about that. Nothing would fix that. Not Dr. Taylor, not Dr. Masonn, not all the outside help in the world. Besides, his father was paying the bills for this place. That would always make the staff side with him over Alan any day of the week.

'You could tell them about International Rescue. That would get back at your family and their twisted priorities.'

Oh, yeah, right. Like that would work. First off, they'd never believe him. They would think it was a delusion. Who would believe a fourteen year old kid about that? Especially one who was considered unstable. There, he'd admitted it. Everybody considered him unstable. Whatever. The thought didn't particularly upset him anymore.

No, he couldn't talk to anybody about IR. It would just reflect back on him all the worse for even bringing it up.

But Dr. Taylor hadn't seemed to shocked at his comment about voices. They weren't voices really either, just his own subconscious thoughts. But they'd taken on a life of their own lately. Maybe he could talk to her about that.

Alan mulled that over some more. That might be a good idea. First off, it would show him as cooperative. That would get him out of here that much faster.

'Once out, you could leave. Dad farms you out to school anyway. You could just walk away at the start of the next term.'

That wasn't a bad thought, Alan mused. He'd just have to bide his time. But first and foremost, he had to get out of here. To do that, they'd have to believe he was better. Well, Alan had spent a lifetime deceiving his brothers and father about how he really felt. It couldn't be that much harder here.

Okay, now he had a plan. His next session was with Dr. Taylor in just a little bit. May as well start to put his idea into action. Who knows, maybe she really could help him. It could be a nice side effect.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a staff member approaching him. Probably coming to get him for his appointment now. No better time to start, he thought.


	9. Chapter 9

**CONSEQUENCES**

**By Spense**

**Chapter Eight**

A couple of days later, a status meeting was once again in progress in Jeff's office. It had become a habit now, meeting there at about twilight.

John would be on the vidphone, and they'd go over the days events and check on Alan.

"Well, it doesn't seem that Alan's made much progress," John commented after they had checked out the days report.

"No," Jeff said, disappointed. "But at least there's a dialogue now between he and the doctors. We didn't even have that until a few days ago."

"They did tell you it would take time," Virgil pointed out.

"True," Jeff agreed.

"At least he's sleeping better," Scott pointed out.

Nobody really had much to say after that.

"Well, I hate to be the bearer of bad news," John said finally, "but I'm afraid I have some more." At the palpable surge of adrenalin in the room and the swift swiveling of heads towards him, he hastened to add, "No, not about Alan. Relax. I checked in on the clinic's logs 10 minutes ago, and he's fine."

The mood in the room relaxed at once, bringing a slight smile to John's face. If only Alan could see them now, he thought. "No, it's about the Hood."

"Oh, man," Virgil groaned. "Will that man EVER go away?"

"Well, apparently, that's exactly what he did," John replied. "He escaped from prison."

"When?" Scott asked.

"How come we haven't heard about it?" Gordon asked.

"Well, because nobody is really sure how long he's been gone."

"How can that be?" Virgil asked in confusion.

John shrugged. "Couldn't tell you. But they checked his cell, and there are several days worth of meal trays there, and no Hood. They only noticed because of the smell."

"You mean nobody noticed the extra trays?" Scott asked, perplexed.

John shrugged again. "Don't ask me."

Jeff had been silent, but suddenly snapped his fingers. "Mind control."

"What?" Scott said, now completely confused.

"Don't you remember? Alan said something about it, and I watched that man lift Alan easily six feet off the ground and do his best to choke the life out of him without touching him or being anywhere near him!"

"Well, yeah," Gordon said, "But that's way different than making everybody think he was still someplace when he was actually far, far, away. Right?"

"TinTin had the gift too. Maybe she could shed some light on it," Jeff suggested.

"I'll go find her," Virgil said firmly. "I don't want that man on the loose any longer than necessary."

"Good. Get her parents too," Jeff called after him.

"I'll get them," Gordon offered, and hurried out of the room.

"I'll get Brains looking into it as well," Scott muttered, following his brothers out the door.

Jeff watched for a moment, then realized that John had been quiet. Too quiet. He turned back to the monitor.

"John?" He asked softly. "Are you all right?"

"Fine," John answered shortly, looking a little too vague for Jeff's taste.

"John!" Jeff snapped. "Don't do that. I've had enough of that from Alan, and I don't think I can handle anymore."

John looked startled, then looked closer at his father's face. Jeff looked to have aged 10 years in the last few months. The situation with Alan was truly taking it's toll. He felt bad for causing more grief.

"I'm sorry Dad. I guess old habits die hard. Believing that if you don't say anything about it, the problem might go away, or if it doesn't, I can solve it myself."

Jeff smiled slightly. "We are all far too stubborn for our own good," he commented, then waited expectantly.

"Yeah, Dad, I'm scared. Scared that that man will come after me again. Petrified, really," John admitted ruefully.

Jeff could see that for all the lightness John was putting into his tone, he really was terrified. "Do you want us to come up and get you?"

John looked relieved for a second, then thoughtful, which finally gave way to determination. "No," he finally said firmly. "I love it up here, and I'll be damned if I let one lunatic destroy it for me. I have weapons now, and trust me, I'll use them."

Jeff nodded slowly. He was still so shaken with the shape Alan was in, and so out of control in that situation, all he wanted to do was gather all of his sons to him and protect them the best he could. But John was an adult, more than capable of making up his own mind, and Jeff had to allow that.

"All right. But you check in every six hours until we catch that man," he said sternly.

"FAB, Dad. And keep me informed on what comes up from talking with the Kyranos."

"Will do. Keep an eye on Alan for me?"

"Of course." John looked over at a monitor. "Looks like he's sound asleep right now."

Jeff relaxed minutely. "Good. Thanks John."

"Anytime. Talk to you in six hours, Dad."

"Or sooner if we have anything new to report."

TB TB TB TB TB

John sat in the dark space station, pensively watching Alan toss and turn on the screen. It was late night where Alan was, actually, about 3 in the morning. But from what John could tell, Alan hadn't been sleeping since about he'd turned in. He'd had several days of sleeping better, but now they were back to this.

A beep startled him. Looking over at the panel, he punched open the channel.

"Looks like somebody else can't sleep," he commented in way of greeting.

"Shut up, John," Scott said amiably in return.

"If you called to talk, why are you telling me to shut up?" John asked, grinning.

Scott rolled his eyes. "You can't sleep either?"

"No, Alan can't."

Scott's eyes reflected sudden concern. "You have Alan up on the screen?"

"Uh-huh. He's been awake for the last several hours."

"Damn, I thought we were past this," Scott muttered. "Nightmares or insomnia?"

"Both, as near as I can tell." John paused for a moment, then stated quietly, "You know that he went back to the infirmary drug cabinet later the night Virgil put a lock on it."

"Yeah, I checked the logs," Scott answered, depressed.

John gave a brief nod. He thought that Scott probably had.

"Does Dad know?" Scott asked.

"Yes. I checked and told him, when he spoke to me about it. That was one reason he decided to send Alan to the clinic. He said Virgil was really, really undone."

"He sure was," Scott commented. "He doesn't know Alan went back. I didn't tell him. He was upset enough as it was."

"Wow," John said. "He didn't ask? That doesn't sound like Virg."

"I've got to tell you, John. This whole thing scares the crap out of me. I just don't know what to do. Alan's always yelled, pouted, thrown tantrums, and basically let everybody know what he feels from the day he was born."

John grinned. "I'll say. We all knew when he wanted anything! He sure kept Mom and Dad hopping."

"And you and me," Scott said with a wry laugh. He sobered instantly. "But now . . ."

John sighed. "Yeah, but now. Depression is a scary thing, that's for sure."

"I just want to shake him and tell him to snap out of it!" Scott groaned.

"That won't help, Scotty and you know it. Depression is a chemical imbalance in the brain, and who knows what else is going on besides."

"I know, I know," Scott moaned. "The bit about him hearing voices nearly sent me over the bend right there with him. I don't know if I can handle Scyzophrenia." He turned thoughtful all of a sudden. "You don't suppose the Hood has anything to do with this, do you . . .?"

John was startled for a moment as he considered the matter. "No," he said finally. "No, I don't. For one thing, how could he keep it up this long, and at this distance? We haven't seen nor heard from him. No, this is strictly a mental issue. You know as well as I do that teenagers are more likely than not to have some kind of problem with depression, and who knows whatever other mental illness. It's bad enough without having to manufacture some sort of additional stressor."

Scott was nodding a slow agreement. "Point taken. Like we don't have stressors enough without making up more. I guess I just never saw Alan as the depressed type."

"What's a depressed type, Scott?" John said pointedly, softening the impact with a smile.

"Shut up, John," Scott said with a grin.

"Go to bed, Scott. I'll talk to you tomorrow."

"I will if you will!"

On that light note, John broke off the communication at looked once again at the monitor showing his little brother's room. He wished he could cheer up Alan as easily as Scott had lightened his mood. But this problem seemed to be a lot harder and long lasting.


	10. Chapter 10

CONSEQUENCES

BY SPENSE

NOTE: First off, I must apologize for my lateness with posting. I hate to admit it, but frankly I forgot I had a story I was releasing! I've just never been able to get into this one, and I don't think I've done all that great a job with it. However, I've recently gotten a couple of e-mails reminding me that I do, indeed, have a story going, so, here are a couple more chapters. As I've stated before, the story is done. I just have to upload it! Thanks again for the reminders, and for the great feedback I've gotten.

Chapter Nine

Brains' lab was crowded. The room was spacious, expansive even. But with all of the Tracys currently on the island, as well as Brains and Fermat, and the Kyranos, and John's face from the monitor, the place seemed to overflow.

The chairs and stools available were taken, and Fermat and Gordon perched on work benches, after carefully clearing space.

Jeff took control immediately, and quickly outlined the situation. News that the Hood had escaped was unwelcome to all. TinTin blanched and exchanged quick, nervous glances with Fermat.

Kyrano spoke up, breaking the tentative silence. "I understand that you want to know about my daughter's gifts, Mr. Tracy."

Jeff smiled wryly at his old friend. "Well, yes. We're hoping that it might shed some light on how the Hood managed to cloud the fact that he had escaped. Apparently, he made the entire staff of the prison believe he was there, when he'd actually escaped."

Brains cocked his head as he considered this.

Kyrano commented thoughtfully, "That is within the scope of his power, Mr. Tracy. He has spent years honing his inherited ability to a point far beyond any of the others who had the same gifts."

"How extensive is his abilities?" Scott asked.

"Easily within the realm of making the prison staff 'forget' he is not there."

"How long range is this ability?" Virgil asked curiously.

"I don't know," Kyrano answered. "My own abilities are next to nothing. TinTin's are far more formidable. She could tell you more than I."

TinTin gulped as the attention was suddenly focused on her. After years of keeping the strange telekinetic ability secret for fear of being seeing as a 'freak', it felt odd to have that many sets of eyes on her, waiting seriously on her opinion.

"Well," she began tentatively, "I don't know about my uncle's abilities, but mine need a focus. I used my necklace." She touched the jade pendant she habitually wore. "And with the focus, I can either direct my thoughts or control an action for a short period of time. However, it exhausts me."

Jeff nodded thoughtfully. He'd seen her in action over spring break. "Do you think you could do the same at a distance?"

"I could communicate telepathically over a short distance for a short time. The further away, the harder it is," she said honestly.

"W-what about for the length of time t-the prison guards app-apparently have been under his influence. S-say a week?"

"I couldn't do it," TinTin said flatly. "It would be impossible."

"W-what about some kind of magnifier? Something-g that would make the recipient susceptible?" Brains asked.

TinTin shrugged. "Don't know."

"It would be a possibility," Onaha said, entering the conversation. "There are many, many herbs and natural remedies that have been used in Malaysia for generations. Modern medicine does not give them the credence they deserve."

Nods of agreement came from all around. Most of those present had benefited from some of those very remedies, courtesy of Onaha's medical services.

"Okay. Brains, TinTin and Onaha, I'd like you to experiment and see if you can come up with something. If we can figure out how, we may be able to determine 'how far'," Jeff said crisply, before pausing and turning to Kyrano. "Of course, if that meets with your approval?"

"Of course, Mr. Tracy. Whatever we can do to help," the man said quietly, accompanied by the nods from his wife and daughter.

"Please remember, however, that my brother has been honing this gift for years and years. And how it manifests itself in my daughter may differ from the form it takes in my brother."

"Yes, of course. But anything will help."

"Dad, what about us? What can we do?" Gordon asked from his perch next to Fermat on the workbench.

"I agree. I want to be proactive, not reactive this time. That man came after us. I say let's go after him this time," Scott said strongly.

"I'm with you," Virgil agreed.

"Amen," John agreed from the monitor.

"Calm down, boys," Jeff admonished. "But, as it so happens, I agree with you. But remember we aren't alone. Every law enforcement agency will be after him. And I'll get Penny on it as well. But John?"

"Yes?"

"The bulk of the research will fall to you. With Five's technology, you'll have the best chance to try to track him."

"And Johnny's hacking abilities, you mean," Gordon muttered, grinning, and earning himself the 'glare of death' from his father. He shut up fast.

Virgil wiped the grin off his face quickly as his father's glare turned his way at his appreciative snicker.

"I prefer to call it 'research prowess'," John said calmly.

"Fermat, I'd like you to help both John and your father."

"FAB."

"Okay, we all have our assignments. Let's get too it. The quicker that man is apprehended, the better."

"Dad?" Scott's quiet voice broke into Jeff's thoughts as the general melee of the conference was breaking up.

He looked up inquiringly at his eldest son. "Yes?"

"What about Alan? Do we bring him home?"

Virgil and Gordon came up behind Scott at the question, and John looked on.

Jeff sighed heavily and looked thoughtful. "No. . . no, I don't think so. I've thought about it, and I think he's safer at the clinic. There's no way the Hood could know where he is, and the clinic is extremely discreet. Besides," Jeff paused and sighed heavily. "I don't know that we can keep him safe from himself here at home," he finished sadly. "He needs the care they can provide right now."

Scott put a hand on his father's shoulder and gave it a brief squeeze.

"Do we tell him?" Gordon asked quietly.

"I'll let his psychiatrics know something about the latest updates on the situation, suitably edited of course," Jeff said after thinking about it a moment. "I think that they are in a better position to make that decision than I am. Possibly they will be able to help him deal with it." Jeff's despair and grief were readily apparent for a moment before he had them firmly back behind his business-like mask. But his sons saw the emotion in him eyes.

"And if Alan brings up IR?" Virgil asked.

Scott shrugged and answered for his father. "Like they'd believe him?"

"Point taken," Virgil snorted. Who would believe an unstable teenager whose own family had committed him. He shuddered at the term, but that was exactly what they had done - committed Alan to a psychiatric hospital.

"He'll be okay, Dad," John said quietly. "Alan is strong, and he's a fighter. He'll get through this."

Virgil and Gordon nodded immediate agreement.

"What about the clinic's security?" Scott asked seriously.

"I've already informed them that there may be a threat against Alan. I called them as soon as John told us. They have assured me that they are on top of it. Trust me, if there is anything out of the ordinary, they'll know it," Jeff said grimly.

"Even with the Hood's apparent powers?" John asked.

"Even so. He couldn't overpower everybody. That clinic runs a staff of about two to every one patient."

Scott whistled quietly. "Wow. That's unheard of."

"Why do you think I chose it? It's the absolute best care I could possibly find," Jeff said tiredly, running a hand through his hair. "Okay, boys, lets get to it. The quicker we locate the Hood, the quicker this is over."

And with that, they dispersed to their various assigned tasks.


	11. Chapter 11

CONSEQUENCES

BY SPENSE

Chapter Ten

For Alan, with no knowledge of the events taking place on Tracy Island, the days went on as usual. He put his considerable intelligence, not to mention inherited Tracy stubbornness into figuring out how to get out of the clinic. This included feeding some small snippets of real information to the Psychiatric.

Surprisingly, this had an interesting effect. Against all odds, he was finding out how informative a counseling session could be, and found himself delving far deeper into his relationship with his brothers than he'd ever intended. In return, he was getting some rather helpful advice and tools in dealing with said issues. Although he wouldn't ever admit it out loud to anybody, he was definitely seeing some benefits.

All that aside, Alan hadn't forgiven has family one iota. He knew where he stood in the Tracy hierarchy, and regardless of the help he was gleaning, it didn't change the basic tenant that he was, in fact, in the way and not wanted.

- - TB - -

On the other hand, back at the island, Jeff was also dealing with some of his own issues. He was finding that his presence in the hunt for the Hood was rather superfluous, and it wasn't something he was used to. Scott, Virgil and Gordon were deep in research and as intense as he himself could be when involved in a problem.

Jeff watched from the doorway of the research center, bemused, as Virgil and Scott conferred with John on Five. As they discussed the specifics of the tracking program John had written and implemented, Jeff realized that they were so far beyond him on the actual technical aspects of the computers that it was daunting. Gordon was talking with Penny, relaying some of the information John had gleaned, and from the look on her face, she was off on some tangent that her instinct was telling her was on target.

For the first time since he'd begun International Rescue, Jeff felt in the way. Oh, he was still Commander, and pulled all the strings. But he'd delegated well, and each of his sons and the other 'family' members involved were at the top of their individual, specific talents, and far beyond him. Smiling slightly to himself, he realized he'd done himself out of a job on the research front. But he was a 'doer', and as such, not content to just watch. Therefore, he'd better find some way to make himself useful.

And on second thought, there was still one area he could out-think the others. Business. And the Hood would need money to put his grandiose plans of domination into effect, and even though he could use his manipulation techniques, it would leave a trail if one knew how to look for it. And the best person to unearth that was himself. Thus, he needed to be in the heart of Tracy Enterprises to do his job.

Jeff cleared his throat softly, then grinned to himself at the immediate response. All conversations stopped, and all heads swiveled towards him. He may be outshone in some ways, but he still was the chief around here!

"I'm going to New York. Call me if you find anything." With that, Jeff turned on his heel, grinning outright at the puzzled expressions in his wake.

- - TB - -

A unique soft chime from his computer alerted Jeff that somebody from Tracy Island wanted him. He quickly reached across his expansive desk and activate the window.

"Dad!" Scott was excited. "We've got something!"

"Great," Jeff was immediately alert. "Hang on one second." With that, he got up and shut the door to his office. Moving back across the large room, he absently took in the New York skyline in the background, but was far more interested in the computer.

"What have you got?"

Scott launched into the details he'd received from Penny. She had made another of her intuitive leaps of logic and following that, had tracked the Hood to of all places, Acapulco.

Jeff shook his head. That man just completely defied logic. He let Scott run with the information, not interrupting, and followed carefully. When Penny had come up with the basic location, the team on Tracy Island had honed in, and picked up traces all over the area. From odd herb sales to strange police reports.

As Scott wound down, Jeff added bits and pieces that he'd accumulated as well. Scott took it all in, finally saying that he'd get with John and they'd dump it all into the computer and see what they came up with. Jeff nodded and signed off.

The remainder of the day was long for Jeff Tracy. He felt like it went on forever as he went through the motions of handling his business. People came and went from his office, dealing with the minutia of running a major corporation, treating each meeting as though it were the most important thing on earth. For his part, Jeff found he felt like he was operating in two separate worlds at the same time. It was . . . odd, to say the least.

Finally, his computer chimed once more. Jeff shooed everybody out of his office, waited impatiently for the door to shut, then lunged for it. This time it was John.

"We've got him! Scott, Virg and Gordon are on their way in TB 1 right now."


	12. Chapter 12

**CONSEQUENCES**

**BY SPENSE**

Note: For all who are concerned that I was getting off track: All roads converge, and there is a method to my plot lines! Again, this is rougher than I like, and if I had done my job correctly, this would be broken into two chapters, but I couldn't find a good break point. Anyway, forgive the lack of polish, but I'll never get it up if I don't post it now.

**Chapter Eleven**

John tapped his fingers absently on the computer console in front of him, watching the status of TB1. Scott, Virgil and Gordon were almost there. They had everything planned out to the last detail, but there was something still bugging John.

They knew the Hood was powereful, but the range that he was able to use his powers was just amazing. It didn't seem possible that he could magnify everything so greatly. No matter what drug or enhancement he used, it just couldn't last that long.

The Kyranos' were dead certain there there was nothing he could be using to maintain that kind of range without burning himself out. There had to be something else. And frankly, it was right at the edge of John's mind, and he just couldn't grasp it, and it was making him crazy.

-- tb --

Scott activated a brand new cloaking device that Brains had been working on over TB 1 as he set her down. "This had better work," he muttered grimly. Otherwise they'd be attracting all the wrong kind of attention.

"Hell of a test run," Virgil commented quietly.

-- tb --

Alan sat on the Adirondack chair in the middle of the lawn that he'd come to think of as his. He had his I-pod on, which not only gave him music to listen too, but also the illusion of privacy. He'd found that both the staff and other kids would leave him alone if they thought he was occupied. He lost himself in the music. It was the best way to go.

-- TB --

John kept a wary eye on the progress of TB1 and his brother's as he lost himself in his research. The TB1 team had successfully landed with the cloaking device working well. They'd found the warehouse, and were silently working around the outside perimieter.

Normally, John would have been riveted, but the whole idea of how the Hood had been able to mask his escape for so long really bugged him. Still watching TB1, he scrolled through the list of herbs and nutrasuticals found when the Hood was last taken into custody, and something began to crystalize. Something about Alan, and his behavior . . .

Then, as he watched Scott and Gordon sneak up on and take out Transom and Mulion, it hit him exactly how the Hood had managed to effect his escape, and to keep it hidden for so long. And to John's horror, that realization blew everything wide open.

-- TB --

For Alan, the normal sunny afternoon suddenly spun on it's axis. The pain, when it hit, was excruciating and unbearable. It lanced through his head like a freight train, and passed just as quickly, leaving him bewildered and panting as he stared with unseeing wide eyes at the immaculate stretch of lawn in front of him, wondering what the hell had just happened.

-- TB --

The commanding 'stop' from above them made Scott,

Virgil and Gordon look up as they finished cuffing the Hood's guards to the wall.

"Listen to this," the Hood said in a relaxed tone. He closed his eyes momentarily, then opened them. All three Tracy's were surprised to see his irises were yellow.

A mental scream echoed inside their heads for a moment. Shocked, they looked at the oriental man.

"That was your brother Alan. I suggest you be careful. I hold his life in my hands right now."

All three froze as the screams echoed silently again.

-- TB --

John could hear through Scott's earpiece and understood what was happening.

A thought struck him, and he began typing madly on the keyboard, bringing up Alan's records at the clinic on one monitor while he continued scanning the list of herbs on the other, and listening to the ongoing conversation at the same time.

Then his attention was riveted onto the computer screen, as all the pieces fell together with a nearly audible snap, leaving him scrambling for the phone.

-- TB --

"Dad, get to Alan, NOW!" John's voice slicing through his computer had been terse, and commanding. "I don't have time to explain. Just go."

Jeff knew his son well enough to obey. He was out of New York and on the road as fast as he could, leaving his bewildered secretary wondering just what had taken place.

-- TB --

The second wave was worse, and just as quickly over. Alan removed his I-pod and got up shakily. This time he could have sworn he had heard a voice. Not what it was saying, but a voice never-the-less.

Making his way back to the massive stone house, Alan was met halfway by Mike, who'd seen the way he was moving and was concerned.

"Alan?" He looked closely at the teenager. He didn't look good. White and shaky. "Are you alright?" he asked gently, concerned.

Alan looked at Mike with dilated eyes. "I . . . don't know."

Mike looked at him carefully. If he didn't know better, he'd have said he was drugged. But that wasn't possible here. He put a hand on the boy's shoulder. "What's wrong?" He was almost more concerned that Alan didn't shrug it off, or ignore him, as was his usual want. Mike could have sworn the expression on Alan's face was one of worry.

"My head. I . .. don't know what happened. It hurt . . . then it was . . .gone." Alan didn't know how to describe the blinding, debilitating pain.

Confused, Mike lifted his other hand to Alan's other shoulder looking closely at his eyes. "Hurt? Headache?" But that didn't seem right. Alan wouldn't have been so disorientated by just a headache.

Alan opened his mouth to answer when it struck again. His face went whiter yet, and contorted with pain as his knees gave way.

Mike grabbed at him quickly, swing him up, and turning, moving back towards the house at the same time. He moved at a quick clip, calling tersely to another of the multiple staff members always present on the grounds. "Allison! Get Dr. Taylor and Dr. Masonn now!"

He headed towards the infirmary wing with an unresponsive Alan as Allison bolted for the house phone.

-- TB --

Jeff drove as though the minions of hell were after him. "John! What's happening?"

"In a minute Dad," came John's grim voice, clearly otherwise occupied.

Jeff knew better than to bother him and concentrated on picking up speed, skidding around the corners of the two lane country road.

-- TB --

Alan came back to himself as he was laid on an exam table in one of the rooms in the medical ward. He could hear Mike's tense voice explaining briefly, and an answering voice.

The absence of pain was almost palpable as he opened his eyes, wincing at the bright light overhead.

"Alan?" Dr. Taylor's voice inquired.

He turned towards her, eyes feeling twice the size of normal, and very sensitive to the light.

She looked at him in concern as she shown her pen light into his eyes. "What happened?"

He winced and blinked. "I don't know," he said shakily.

Then it struck again. With the same unexpected ferocity and the same blinding agony. Alan heard himself scream as he turned on his side and curled unknowingly into a fetal position. He could barely hear the cacophony of sounds around him as the medical personnel went into action.

-- TB --

Scott, Virgil and Gordon were ranged in front of the hood. They didn't dare move in on their nemesis. He held Alan in his hands, and they knew it.

The Hood tilted his head knowingly, and smiled slightly, as he sand down onto an upholstered chair easily.

"A bit at a loss as to how to proceed, humm?" He said, again with that slight smile.

Scott's eyes narrowed.

"What are you doing?"

"Breaking you from within, of course," the Hood answered calmly. Then smiled as the mental screams echoed again, building with intensity.

-- TB --

"Make it stop!" Alan wailed in desperation, hardly coherent. He was hearing the voice again. Both the people around him, and worse yet, the one inside his head, underlying the pain. It was clearer than the medical staff now, and horrible. He was alone, he was worthless, his family just wanted to send him away because he was useless to them. "Make it stop!" he cried again as the pain and mental voice intensified.

He began to retch as his body reacted to the intense pain.

-- TB --

With the screaming echoing in their minds, the Hood's move caught them off guard. Scott, Virgil and Gordon were caught off guard by the sudden flurry of movement, objects thrown at them and then the disappearance of the Hood altogether.

As they scrambled after him, the moments hesitation costing them dearly, John's voice was hear clearly by all three in their earpieces.

"Scott," John said grimly, "He's controlling Alan."

"I gathered that," Scott answered dourly, as he moved fast.

"You have to stop the Hood. He's triggering it mentally, but he's got some kind of drug in Alan to amplify it. I checked Alan's blood samples from the clinic. There's something unknown. But the chemial components match something that was with the Hood when we originally captured him. It wasn't toxicological so it won't show up on a tox screen. You wouldn't find it unless you looked for it specifically.

"F.A.B." Scott replied grimly as he ran. "We'll get him."

-- TB --

The pain cut out abruptly again. And the voice telling him so clearly what he'd been feeling lately stopped as well. Alan lay back disoriented, panting, finding it hard to catch his breath.

As he relaxed, the hands that had been restraining him, now went to work. As somebody stripped his clothes off down to his boxers, Dr. Masonn leaned in with a stethoscope, and somebody else put an oxygen mask over his face.

Over the voices, he could hear Dr. Taylor ordering grimly, "Somebody get Jeff Tracy on the phone."

As Alan panted, he latched onto that thought. Dad. His Dad would be here. He'd fix it.

-- TB --

Scott, Virgil and Gordon fanned out as they entered the large room. Working with hand signals, they worked a search pattern carefully, every aware of the risks. The faint echoing screaming was gone for now, but they were under no illusions of how fast it could return.

-- TB --

Jeff answered the voice activated phone as he kept both hands on the wheel. Listening grimly for a moment, he answered tersely. "I'm five minutes away. Have the gate open for me, because I'm not stopping," and he disconnected.

"Dr. Masonn, Mr. Tracy is on his way now," a confused voice informed. "He says he's five minutes away."

As he bent over a limp, but now coherent Alan, fingers on his wrist checking his pulse, he muttered, "Good. Get him up here as soon as he hits the door."

The first voice continued, puzzled. "But how did he know?"

"I don't know," Dr. Masonn muttered, "but we'll deal with it later. Alan, look at me," he commanded.

Alan focused on the doctor, still breathing hard. He could feel the sweat pouring off of him and smell the sour smell of vomit. That made him begin to gag slightly again.

"Deep breathes, Alan," Dr. Masonn instructed as he looked in Alan's eyes.

Then the pain hit again. And the voice, telling him again how much everybody hated him.

-- TB --

The screams heard mentally echoed louder, but the audible mocking laughter was clearer. The three Tracy sons hunting the Hood forced themselves to be patient as they worked their careful search pattern, trying not to think about what was at stake.

"Hurry guys," John's grim voice said as he eyed the computer readouts with trepidation. "I've logged into the clinic's medical system and Alan's vitals are going through the roof. You've got to wrap this up."

A low growl from Virgil's direction was the only thing he heard other than the quick verbal signals of the search grid.

-- TB --

Jeff bolted into the medical room just in time to see his son convulse. Mike grabbed him and held him back from the table giving the staff room to work as they worked to keep him from convulsing off the table and jamming a depressor in his mouth to keep him from choking on his own tongue. As Alan went into another seizure, the heart and blood pressure monitors spiked and began to blare alarms as his rates soared.

-- TB --

"Ha! Having some trouble with your little brother?" The Hood's voice was gloating as the screaming echoed in their minds. "I don't know how much more he can survive."

Gordon did his best to block it out and concentrate. He focused on the sound and gestured to Virgil.

There! A flash of the gaudy red satin robes the Malaysian man wore could be seen from the corner.

-- TB --

Alan came back to himself, shaking like a leaf. He was on his back again, with something in his mouth. As that was withdrawn and the oxygen mask was replaced, he followed instructions on trying to breath normally. Familiar and unfamiliar staff faces were all around him, strained and intense. Somebody was starting an IV, somebody else was getting more vital readings, and Alan couldn't keep track. The absence of pain was almost as bad as the pain itself. But the absence of the voice was a godsend.

"Alan!" At the sound of the familiar voice, Alan looked with desperate longing towards his father.

Jeff muscled his way in between the working people, ignoring all orders to stay back, grabbing Alan's hand and placing another on his son's overheated forehead and sweat soaked hair.

Alan's eyes were dilated to an alarming degree, and all Jeff could see was fear.

Jeff ignored all the personnel trying to muscle him out of the way, and leaned down to gather his son to his chest in desperation.

Still breathing too hard to say anything, Alan clutched desperately at his father, the movement finally sparking returning feeling in the rest of his body. He alternately burned hot and then freezing cold. He stomach was cramping from the vomiting, and he felt the clammy sweat all over his body. And before he could process anything else further, the pain returned with a vengeance, and now the voice was screaming at him.

Jeff was ripped forcibly away from his son as Alan began to convulse again, right there in his arms.

"Mr. Tracy. Mr. Tracy! You have to give them room to work!" Mike literally manhandled him back against the far wall as Jeff watched in horror as Alan went into cardiac arrest. They had a pulse again within moments, but Alan continued to convulse.

"Mr. Tracy, a John Tracy is demanding to speak with you," another technician jammed a phone into Jeff's hand and moved his hand to his ear for him, when Jeff showed no inclination to do it himself.

"Dad! Are you there? Dad!!" John's voice made Jeff pay attention, although his eyes were riveted on his youngest son.

"Yes John."

"Dad, I need you to get the doctors to look at the information I'm going to download onto the screen. It's the magnifying agent. They have to counter it. That will take the pain down to more tolerable levels before it kills him. Dad!"

"I'm doing it now, John!" And Jeff broke away and literally grabbed Dr. Taylor and shoved her to the readout, grabbing her chin and forcing her to read.

Her resistance ceased as she realized what she was looking at, and then she was shouting orders. She didn't even resist or ask questions. What she saw made sense, and she knew that if it didn't work, it wouldn't matter, since they were losing Alan anyway.

-- TB --

Scott, Virgil and Gordon showed remarkable patience as they worked their way silently towards the Hood's hiding place. His mocking laughter told them that he still didn't know they'd spotted him.

-- TB --

Suddenly, the pain diminished. It didn't go away, and it was still bad, but now Alan could hear the voice clearly now – the comments about his weakness, his uselessness, the insidious muttering about the fact that his father just sent him away to get him out of the way. But Alan could fight back against it now, try to push it mentally away, realizing that it wasn't true. And he did so, anger helping to fuel his fight.

To the medical staff, the change was nearly instantaneous. Alan's convulsions stopped, and although still screaming weakly, and clearly in nearly unbearable pain, he began to stabilize. His vitals began to drop to still very high, but now no longer life threatening levels.

Jeff turned towards the phones receiver and said in relief, "It worked John. He still in bad shape, but it won't kill him. Tell them to get the bastard."

-- TB --

"Now Scott," John said in grim satisfaction. "They found the blocker. He can't kill Alan now. Get him."

And the three brothers went into action with clear satisfaction.

The Hood's surprise was manifest when the three Tracy's descended on him.

"I'll kill him!" He shouted angrily, and with a smile began the process.

"Sorry to disappoint you, but your magnifier is blocked!" Scott said as he pulled back his fist and Virgil and Gordon latched onto to the villain.

Seeing the truth in Scott's face, the Hood yelled "Noooo!!" in disappointment and rage, only to be cut off as Scott hit him hard in the face, knocking him senseless.

-- TB --

Alan came to with a whimper as John said to Jeff, "It's done. They've got him. He's unconscious now."

Jeff moved to Alan's side. Alan was so weak, he couldn't even move. He just looked blankly at his father. In a brief, private bubble within the chaos, Jeff said quietly, "It's over Alan. It's done. It won't happen again. We got him."

Alan just whimpered weakly again, and let his eyes slide slowly shut in complete exhaustion, ignoring the medical personnel still working feverishly on him. He wasn't really sure what his father meant, but if Jeff had said it would be okay, then that was enough for him. His father was here, and he'd deal with it. With that complete confidence in his parent, Alan let go of the fight, and slid out of reality with a grateful sigh.


	13. Chapter 13

**CONSEQUENCES**

**BY SPENSE**

Chapter Twelve

Alan woke because he was retching. There wasn't anything in his stomach to throw up, but the cramping didn't care. Moaning, he curled in on himself, longing for the darkness again.

Over the sounds of his own groaning, he could have sworn he heard his father's voice. Another voice, closer, answered clearly.

"No, it's okay, it isn't unexpected, it's just reaction."

Alan felt hands steadying him as he heard his father's voice once again. He felt the unmistakable prick of a needle and the other voice saying from a long way off, "This will help."

He certainly hoped so. He felt awful. And that was his last thought before he dove smoothly into the deep dark pool and knew nothing more.

TB TB TB TB TB

The next time Alan surfaced, he woke enough to realize he was in his own room at the clinic. Upon further reflection, he was surprised to discover it was probably late afternoon. And that he felt awful. His head ached with a dull, far away throb that was more an annoyance that a real pain, and he felt a little nauseous.

As he started to wake up, he shifted, beginning to unfold, and quickly realized that was a big mistake. He felt incredibly sore. The kind of sore you felt after you overdid it on exercise. He closed his eyes with a soft moan and lay still.

"Hey, Son."

Alan heard his father's familiar voice, and felt a weight settle on his mattress. He opened his eyes again as Jeff smoothed the hair back off of his forehead.

"Feeling pretty lousy, Sprout?" Scott asked over the scraping of a chair being moved.

Alan could see his older brother sitting on a chair next to the bed. Scott had turned it backwards and was resting his arms on the top of the chair back. He smiled as he met Alan's eyes.

"Uh-huh," Alan acknowledged, grateful his stomach was settling down.

"That's not terribly surprising," Jeff said soothingly. "It will pass quickly. You're just still feeling reaction from yesterday."

Alan shuddered involuntarily as the memory of terrible pain came flooding back. "Is it over?" he whispered.

"Yes," Jeff said firmly, "it is."

"What happened?" Alan asked, puzzled.

Scott and Jeff traded glances and Scott got up. "I'm going to go find Dr. Taylor and tell her Alan's awake."

"Good idea," Jeff agreed.

After the door shut behind him, Jeff turned back to Alan who was looked at him questioningly.

Jeff sighed. "It's a long story Alan, and it goes back to spring break and the Hood's attack."

Alan tensed slightly, and settled into his pillow and waited, not taking his eyes off his father. He felt . . . strange. Like something was different. Like something was gone that he'd never even realized was there before.

Jeff kept a light touch on Alan's shoulder as he began to explain. He really wasn't sure how Alan was going to react.

"The Hood has developed some kind of mind control. John's been researching it. The Kyrano's apparently have some kind of gift. TinTin has been working with Brains to see if there is some way of blocking it."

Alan nodded. He knew that.

"The Hood was apparently able to block the minds of the guards in his cell and gain free access to his henchman. In doing so, he developed a plan to get back at our family, and specifically, you and me."

"He managed to dose your food with some kind of magnifying compound, making you extremely susceptible to his suggestions, as well as seriously depleting the levels of seretonin in your brain. This is the chemical that causes depression. John and Virgil are tracking how it was given to you. There's a lot we don't know, but we're on it," he said reassuringly to Alan's widening gaze.

"Once he had it up to the levels he wanted, as near as we've been able to tell, he began planting suggestions." Jeff chose his words carefully. "I don't know exactly what they were, but whatever he was planting in your mind was alienating you from the rest of the family."

He stopped as Alan gave a brief shudder and began to turn away. "No Alan," he said, and climbed onto the bed next to his son, leaning back against the headboard so he could wrap his arm around his son. For the first time in months, Alan didn't move away from the contact. Jeff hugged him closer, grateful to be allowed to by his son and continued talking.

"He was very insidious. Only you can tell me what was going on, but I can tell with all assurance, they weren't your own thoughts."

He could feel Alan trembling lightly next to him, and all he could feel was anger at the man responsible.

"He chose you because not only were you the agent of his downfall this spring, but as a teenager, you're more vulnerable to the emotional mood swings that come with that age. In doing so, the Hood was doing his best to destroy me, and he came dammed close."

At that, Alan looked in startled surprise at his father. Jeff smiled at him and held his gaze so he could see the truth in it.

"I was devastated at what was happening to us. You were so distant and I couldn't reach you. I was so frightened that you'd try to take your own life. I didn't know what to do."

Alan looked away. "I almost did," he whispered inaudibly, thinking of the drug cabinet in the infirmary at Tracy Island.

"But you didn't. You were still fighting back, regardless of what you were feeling."

Alan shook his head blindly.

Jeff shook him lightly. "Yes Alan. I saw that so clearly yesterday. The pain was a result of Scott, Virgil and Gordon cornering the Hood. John and Scott had tracked him down. When they cornered him, he told them he would kill you."

Alan looked in shock at his father. The pain in Jeff's eyes was there with shocking clarity.

"John isolated the compound he was using and told me to get here as fast as I could. He was very nearly too late. We almost lost you. But he isolated it, and Dr. Masonn blocked it. The onslaughts were still bad, but you began to fight back. You'd been fighting it all along. That's why you're still with us."

Alan absorbed all of this silently, then suddenly turned his face and buried it in his father's side. He wrapped his arms tightly around him and held tight.

"It's all over now, Alan, I promise. I'll be here, and I'll make sure you get whatever help you need to get over this."

"It was like I was talking to myself," Alan said, his voice muffled. Jeff had to strain to hear him as he wrapped both arms tightly around his son.

"There was all these thoughts. About how all you ever did was send me away - to school, to the clinic, just anywhere except home. That I'd never measure up to my brothers and that I was useless and an anchor holding everybody else down. It was so clear. I just stopped defending myself because it seemed so useless."

Jeff closed his eyes against the despair in his son's voice. It had been so insidious. But he just let him talk, glad Alan was talking to him, at last.

"The thoughts just wouldn't stop. They were always there. Then it just became easier to believe them because they seemed so right."

"No Alan," Jeff had to break in there. "They weren't true," he said firmly.

Alan nodded into his father's shirt, then started talking again. "I didn't trust anybody. Everything seemed twisted somehow. Then you brought me here, and it was the ultimate betrayal. You were just dumping me off again."

"No . . ." Jeff began to protest.

"But that's what it felt like, and that's what my head was telling me. Then, the pain started. And the thoughts became actual voices. Really, really clear." Alan paused and took a deep breath. "And all I wanted was you."

Jeff felt tears prick his eyes and he hugged his son even tighter.

"And you came," Alan said softly. "Even as awful as I'd been."

"Of course I came Alan. You've been scaring me to death the last few months, and I was afraid I'd lose you. I couldn't take a chance that you'd try suicide. The hardest thing I've ever done was to leave you here. But I knew you'd be safer here than at home."

Alan nodded again, clinging tightly.

Jeff steeled himself and asked quietly, "Are the voices still there?"

"No. I felt different when I woke up. Like something's gone."

"Thank the Lord," Jeff breathed.

The two sat like that for awhile, quiet, restful.

Finally Alan asked, "What's going to happen now?"

"I'm going to have you stay here for a week or so."

At the immediate tension in Alan's arms, Jeff added quickly, "And I'm staying as well." As the tension faded out of Alan, Jeff could see how frightened he still was, and he didn't blame him. This had been very subtle and very, very insidious.

"I want to make sure we've isolated how you were getting the magnifying agent, and close those avenues. I also want to make sure Brains has developed something to block it. The Hood is locked up, and now they are aware of his gifts. This will. Not. Happen. Ever. Again."

The steel in Jeff's voice reassured Alan further. He never wanted to feel like that again. "Good," he said softly.

Father and son stayed sitting quietly, glad for the peace.

A tap on the door disturbed them finally, and Dr. Taylor poked her head in. "May I come in?" She said with a smile.

"Come on in," Jeff said, returning the smile.

Sitting down in the chair Scott had abandoned, she looked at Alan. "How are you feeling, Alan?"

"Okay, I guess," he answered tentatively.

"In other words, not great," she grinned back.

Alan smiled slightly, shrugging. "But the voices are gone," he offered.

She looked relieved. Exchanging relieved looks with Jeff, she continued. "Good," she said, exhaling slightly. "Scott will be back in a moment. He went to get some coffee."

"Okay," Jeff acknowledged, waiting for her to continue. He stayed where he was, an arm around Alan's shoulders, so incredibly grateful to have his son back, whole and healthy, without having to deal with an extended mental illness. He was one of the lucky ones, he knew, when he thought of all the kids here at the clinic.

"We've isolated the compound, thanks to your son, John. He's quite a scientist, by the way."

"Yes, he is," Jeff said proudly.

A tap, then an opening door heralded Scott's return, with two cups of coffee, one of which he handed to his father. Jeff smiled his thanks, took a sip, and set it on the nightstand, returning his attention to the doctor.

Scott quietly took a chair so as not to interrupt her, smiling a greeting at Alan, who returned the smile.

"The compound was a plant of some kind, not known here in the west. It has hallucinogenic properties and is a severe depressant. Because it isn't a known drug, per se, it doesn't show on our screens." She exhaled heavily. "It also seems to make the recipient extremely prone to suggestion, hence the voices in your head, Alan. It makes you susceptible to your greatest fears."

Alan thought briefly again of the letters he'd found, then firmly pushed those thoughts away.

She smiled at him again. "And you, being a teenager, are going to be subject to the typical self-esteem issues that go with that age. The drug just magnified that tendency to a huge degree. That coupled with the depressive effect made you shut down. And, as near as we can tell, you finally had a bad physical reaction to it yesterday. If John hadn't found it, isolated it, and given us the information on how to block it, we might have lost you, Alan."

As Alan absorbed that frightening fact, Jeff stepped in to mitigate the startling truth. "But we didn't. And Alan is going to be fine, correct?" He said, looked at her unwaveringly.

"That is correct," she said convincingly. "You'll need to stay here a week or so, Alan, and give us a chance to work through any aftereffects, and your reactions to all that's happened, and to make sure that your seretonin levels are going back up, but then you can go on home. How does that sound?"

"Great!" Alan said, almost surprising himself with how good that really did sound.


	14. Chapter 14

**CONSEQUENCES**

**BY SPENSE**

Chapter Thirteen

It wasn't long before Alan was up and around and back to his usual, pre-Hood level of energy. He felt wonderful, like a 10 ton elephant was off of his back.

Scott and Virgil had discovered the source of the magnifying agent. The Hood had been using Onaha, directing her to add it to the granola bars that Alan loved. It had been a process of elimination. What had been everyplace Alan was? At home, at school and at the clinic. There were few constants.

When Brains had analyzed one of the bars, an extra ingredient had come up - one that was not on the recipe that Onaha had given him, and one that matched a list of herbs only available in Malaysia and the substance found in Alan's blood stream.

Alan felt much better when that fact was uncovered. The final few sessions with his doctors had gone well, and his father was intimately involved. He'd ended up talking about how it felt being the youngest of such an exceptional family, and other things that he never thought he'd bring up. IR was never mentioned, but Jeff did tell him quietly one day, that if he needed to talk about it, to go right ahead. Alan just didn't feel the need.

However, in one of the last sessions, Alan brought up something in spite of himself. Something that he'd kept hidden for many, many months.

Jeff was not in this particular session, spending some time on the phone in a borrowed office attending to business. Dr. Taylor had asked him if there was anything else he wanted to talk about before he went home tomorrow.

Alan got quiet all of a sudden, becoming very thoughtful.

"Alan?" Dr. Taylor asked with a gentle smile.

"Yeah . . ." Alan said slowly. "There is." He looked at her seriously, as though gauging her ability to understand, and his desire to even bring it up, then continued. "Just before I went back to school, I found some things of my mother's in the basement."

The doctor nodded in understanding. They'd talked about Lucille to some extent. "Go on."

Alan looked down, and wouldn't meet her eyes as he continued. "I found some letters and stuff that she'd kept that nobody had ever looked at. They were from my Dad."

Dr. Taylor nodded again, and let him find his balance, not pushing.

"I guess Mom wasn't supposed to get pregnant again. But she did. Dad was afraid it would kill her and wanted . . . wanted the pregnancy . . ." He trailed off. Looking up at her, he said the unthinkable. "Dad wanted me aborted," he said baldly.

"Oh, Alan," Dr. Taylor said gently. "Did you talk to your father about what you found?"

"No," Alan said. "Dad makes it clear in the letters that he was worried about her health, and that he loved her and couldn't live without her. Mom wouldn't do it. I guess they really, really fought. Then three years later, he was stuck with me and Mom was gone anyway," Alan finished bitterly.

"I see," the doctor said thoughtfully. "Did it ever occur to you that maybe your father would have been overjoyed to have both of you after your birth?"

Alan just shrugged and looked blindly out the window. "But she died. And he always sends me away," he whispered, finally articulating his greatest fears.

"Alan, your father has some very specific reasons for sending you to school. You and I have already discussed that with him. Your education is very important to your father. But it sounds like you're still unsure and that we maybe need to talk some more about it. But as for the other, how many letters did you see?"

"Three. One was an e-mail, another was a letter and the last was a card."

"Did it occur to you that it was only one side of the story? That there was more communication involved that you aren't aware of? Communication that your father could shed light on?"

Alan cocked his head thoughtfully. "I guess," he shrugged, not completely convinced.

"Did you not talk to him about this because you were afraid you already knew the answer?"

"Uh-huh," Alan said quietly, after a long hesitation.

"Then I think we need to hear your father's side," she said with a smile.

Alan's look of horror and his "No!" clashed with her punching the intercom and asking an aide to locate Mr. Tracy and send him down to the room.

She sat back and looked at the sick expression on his face. "Alan, so much of your issues are your lack of faith in your place in your family. The age gap does make a difference in how you are treated, no question, you're still a minor whereas your brothers are legal adults. But why do you think that it would make a difference in how much they care about you?"

Alan swallowed hard. "I don't know," he whispered.

She smiled again. "I think maybe we're finally getting to the heart of the matter."

A tap on the door interrupted them, and Jeff Tracy was escorted in. He was immediately aware that something more than just the usual was going on. Alan looked sick to his stomach, and had seemed to shrivel in his chair. Jeff had rarely seen that kind of obvious nerves from his youngest son. Something had really rattled Alan, and he just couldn't fathom what it was.

"Alan?" he asked, concerned, beginning to move towards his son.

"Sit down, Mr. Tracy," Dr. Taylor said pleasantly but firmly, directing him to a chair.

Against his better instincts, Jeff sank down slowly into the chair indicated, instead of going to his son.

"Alan found a few things several months ago. We've been discussing them, and I've been trying to convince him that there is more to the situation than what he's seen."

"Alright," Jeff said slowly, completely confused.

"Apparently, he found some communications between you and your wife that she had saved from the time of her pregnancy with Alan."

Comprehension began to dawn slowly on Jeff as he realized, horrified, what Alan may have found. "Oh my . . ." he breathed softly, hoping against all odds that he was wrong. He looked over at his son, who seemed to curl into himself even more. The strength of personality and scrappiness that was such a part of him had completely vanished, leaving him looking unusually vulnerable.

"The letters were in regards to your wishes for that particular pregnancy."

Jeff closed his eyes in pain. He would have spared Alan this with all he had in him. Alan should never have known. Opening them again, he looked once again at his son, wondering how he was going to fix this.

"I've tried to tell Alan that there is usually more to a situation than meets the eye. I don't know that he believes me. I think he needs to hear it from you."

Jeff nodded slowly. Taking a deep breath, he leaned forward. "Alan." When he didn't respond, Jeff repeated himself. "Alan. Look at me, please."

Alan reluctantly looked up at his father.

"Alan, I'm so sorry you saw any of that." Jeff measured his words carefully. So much depended on this. "That was not a good time in my life, or in Lucille's." At the clouds beginning in Alan's face, he continued quickly. "Not because of you. Never because of that."

"What you don't know is that when Gordon was born, Lucy had a horrible time. Gordon was pre-mature, and we almost lost them both."

Alan nodded slowly. He'd heard that before.

"That was bad enough. We were told that it would be dangerous to have another child. So we decided that four was enough. But we were busy with four young sons and a growing business. But then, Lucy was pregnant again two years later." He leaned forward, trying to give emphasis to his words. "Lucy miscarried within three months and was desperately ill. We almost lost her. For three days, I didn't know if she would survive."

Alan looked surprised. He hadn't known this.

"None of the boys know this. All they knew was that their mother was very ill. I couldn't . . . just couldn't tell them that they had lost a sibling. They still don't know. But she pulled through." The pain from that time was evident on Jeff's face and he continued.

"Then, well, we kept planning to implement a permanent solution, but time kept getting away from us. Then, she was pregnant again with you. I lost it. I couldn't go through the loss again. Not only losing the child that we had come to want as we did the last time, but sitting in the hospital, afraid I'd lose her as well. I was so frightened. I pressured her to terminate the pregnancy."

Jeff lifted his eyes and made sure that Alan was looking directly at him. His son's eyes were huge as he processed his father's emotional reaction to the memories.

He smiled slightly. "You inherited your stubbornness from your mother. Why she didn't miscarry from the pressure I put on her, I'll never know. I put her through hell, by not dealing with my fears, and trying to impose my will on her. We fought until she was hospitalized from the stress. I finally saw reason."

"Alan, you weren't real to me then. I wouldn't let you be real because I was so afraid. I couldn't let myself get attached to you before you were born like I had my other children, including the child who miscarried, because I couldn't go through the pain of losing a child again. The last time had been horrible. I could focus on Lucy. She was there, and maybe I could do something to save her."

"But you were real to her. Thank god. I've prayed in thanksgiving for that every day since your birth. Thankful that she was stronger than I was, and that you were real to her, because she was right, and I was wrong. And when the deadline was past for safely ending the pregnancy, she made sure I knew that you were there, and alive, by making me feel you kick and move."

"Then, when you were born, and I looked into your blue eyes, I was so grateful for her strength, because she was right. I've never been so grateful to be wrong in my life. And grateful to Lucy for her perseverance."

"I've lived in gratitude for the years we had, and for that fact that because of her strength, I had both of you, in spite of myself. Then, when she died in the avalanche, I had you. You are so much like her, with her strength of will. It was like the last gift she left me - a piece of her that was an unexpected gift."

Jeff paused. "Maybe that's why I've been so protective of you. Because I nearly didn't have the chance to have you at all because of my own weakness and shortsightedness."

"Then why do you send me away?" Alan finally found the courage to whisper.

"Send you away?" Jeff looked horrified and puzzled.

"To school."

"Alan, I don't send you away. I send you to school. We've talked about that. There is so much in life to experience. I hate having you away from home. But we live on an island, so closed off from everything and everybody. I'd be remiss if I didn't send you out into the world to learn and experience life. I miss you so much when you're gone. Just as I missed Gordon. But how can I be that selfish?"

Alan wrapped his arms around himself, trying to keep from breaking down. His worst fears hadn't come true. He'd finally heard what he so desperately wanted, and had feared wasn't so.

"Alan," Jeff said softly, "I'm so sorry that you had to live with this. I wish you had felt that you could have come to me. I'm so sorry you didn't feel you could. I'll regret that for the rest of my life that you felt unable to approach me. I am so sorry."

Alan looked up at his father, eyes huge with unshed tears, desperately trying not to break down. He was fourteen for heavens sake! But at the look of undisguised love on his father's face, he couldn't help it. Tears began to stream down his face, but before he had time to be embarrassed, Jeff was over next to him, and gathering him in his arms.

Alan let go, and sobbed out his relief to the comforting murmuring of his father. And the soft shutting of the door as Dr. Taylor left them alone to heal and renew their relationship.

EPILOGUE

It was late when the celebration barbeque finally wound down on Tracy Island. Alan was tired when he finally got to his room. Shutting the door softly behind him, he leaned on it, looking around. It seemed so long since he'd been there.

Somebody, probably Ohana, had cleaned it while he'd been gone. He reflected that he'd not seen so much of the floor since he'd moved in.

A reflection of the moonlight on the dresser caught his eye. Puzzled, he moved forward. A smile crossed his face as he realized what it was.

His IR pin, the one he'd angrily thrown in the trash, sat in the middle of his dresser, demanding attention. Grinning, Alan touched it. All was - finally - right with the world. Tomorrow, he started training with Scott on TB One. Life was good again, all right.

Finis


End file.
